


Come As You Are.

by Azrael_Doll



Series: The Grass is Greener on The Other Side. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azrael_Doll/pseuds/Azrael_Doll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Harry and Hermione end up in Slytherin and shake the foundations of the Wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no underage pairings in this fic, it will most likely end up Dramione, though I am unsure who to pair Harry with. It will also not treat Albus Dumbledore kindly.

Professor McGonagall looked on in askance, unsure exactly how to respond to the girl’s reaction to the news. This wasn’t the first time this had happened when she’d delivered the news in person, but the idea couldn’t be that mind-boggling, could it? Her thoughts then drifted to the notion of how many muggles existed and didn’t believe in magic; it must be too mad an idea to keep them from realising about the magical society that lived among them. Stifling a shudder at the thought of muggles finding out, she turned her attention back to the girl in front of her. Hermione Granger was a small thin girl with a mound of bushy hair that sprung around her in tight curls, her skin was olive-toned, and probably a  couple shades darker than normal considering that summer had just passed. The girl had unfortunately big front teeth that flashed as she was talking, or rather asking questions, that weren’t stopping. She seemed a bundle of uncontainable energy. If McGonagall were a betting woman, and as much as she enjoyed the weekly card games with Poppy and Pomona, she wasn’t. She would bet the girl would end up in Ravenclaw. She absently told the girl that there would be books and resources that she would be able to purchase when they went to Diagon Alley. The child’s eyes had lit up with the idea of books. Definitely a Ravenclaw.

 

A noise moved her attention to the parents who looked on with barely concealed suspicion. They were well off these muggles; they lived in a prosperous part of London, in a large manor house. She’d been given a sheaf of papers with relatively detailed information about the family. The father came from old money and the family had primarily been doctors and dentists, they had an old and well-known practice that the affluent flocked to. He’d met his wife at a dentistry convention in Greece; she was a good ten years his junior and focused on reconstructive surgery. Her work was highly praised, it also helped that she did not charge exorbitant fees. In fact she had introduced a charity component to the business, which also helped with the reputation. In any case, the two had fallen in love, married and had one child, all while entertaining polite society. This information rushed to the forefront of McGonagall’s mind as she took in the gazes of the two parents starting back at her, her hackles started to rise, feeling that she’d made a mistake in entering their house as a Gryffindor. If they had been magical she had no doubt for all their philanthropy, that they would be Slytherins. She now wasn't as sure on her house proclamation for the young girl. Professor McGonagall was beginning to wonder if she should have taken this assignment herself as she could feel a migraine starting to build above her right eye; the level of power and emotions flying around the room wasn't helping matters. This is the last time Albus got her to make a house call!


	2. Chapter One.

It had started out as a normal day at Granger Manor, the Grangers all waking up early. Hermione’s parents had their first day back at the practise, and Hermione had a number of lessons with tutors that were scheduled to arrive in a couple hours; but she’d wanted the morning to herself to get the work in order. They’d only gotten back from holiday in Greece a couple of days ago and were just getting back into the rhythm of things. The Grangers were sitting together in the dining room enjoying breakfast, the light room overlooking the gardens at the back of the house, the theme of light greens and soft yellows carried in from outside and the room had dark half wood panelled walls with green wallpaper that had yellow birds in assorted positions above it. It had a long table that ran the length of the room and the Grangers were all seated in the middle and no one sat at the head of the table.  

 

“Don’t forget we have the Burges birthday soiree happening on Friday.” Hermione’s father stated as he sipped at his coffee, absently looking up from the newspaper in front of him as he reminded Hermione and Phoebe.

 

“Oh yes, it’ll be wonderful to see them after the holiday, won’t it Hermione?”

 

Hermione grimaced internally at the thinly vailed message in the seemingly benign comment, “Yes it will be.” She responded demurely.

 

“Oh come now Phoebe, we can hardly blame her for what happened last time.” Michael, Hermione’s father said good-naturedly.

 

“Thomas Burges ended up with a black eye! Oh how we’re to live it down I do not know.” Phoebe complained.

 

The memory of Thomas Burges being knocked back into the buffet table and ending up sprawled on the floor covered in hors d'oeuvre and the birthday cake played itself in Hermione’s mind. Called up from a section of her mind palace; she’d discovered the idea in a fantasy novel and thought it a useful practise, it had been surprisingly easy to work her mind around. She’d created a wonderful library in her mind and used it to store knowledge, it was full of different concepts and there even was a quiet greenhouse garden in the centre, where she entered and exited from. There had been times when she’d nearly lost herself in there. She started to smile to herself at the image in her mind, and smothered the impulse as she responded to her mother instead. “Mum, I told you, he was being ridiculous! Going on and on about how women shouldn’t read!”

 

“Well, yes,” Hermione’s mother tentatively agreed, “But that still doesn’t excuse what you did.” A smirk crossed the woman’s face, “Though Sarah’s face when she found out what he had said was a delight!” Laughter rose from the table as they pictured their friend’s Sarah Burges usually implacable façade had been scored with anger at her son’s misogynistic remarks.

 

“Though what he did was wrong, you must learn to control your tempter.” Her father said in admonishment, though the laughter creasing his face took some of the sting out of the rebuke. “It’s like I always say -.”

 

“Anger is not the way; it leads to brash actions with little regard to the consequences.” Hermione and Phoebe stated in mock-serious harmony.

 

Michel raised an eyebrow and coughed slightly in embarrassment. Just then the butler, Albert knocked on the door before entering, saving him from having to respond.

 

“Sir and Madams, you have a guest at the front door.”

 

“Albert, how many times do I have to say, you don’t have to refer to us in that way!” Phoebe exclaimed kindly. The butler nodded in deference to her but didn’t respond.

 

“Who is it, Albert?”

 

“A Professor McGonagall, who says she’s come here to offer Hermione a place at her school.”

 

“Her school?” Hermione’s mother asked, her eyes narrowing.

 

“Yes, she is the deputy headmistress.”

 

“What school is this?” Hermione asked she already attended a very good private school in London that was at the top of the league tables, why she would want to go elsewhere, she had no idea.

 

Albert hesitated slightly before saying, “She did not say.”

 

Hermione’s father sighed before saying, “Show her to the parlour then, we’ll be through momentarily.” Albert nodded and quietly left the room.

 

“Now this is strange.” Her mother commented her brow furrowed in thought.

 

Hermione bristled with curiosity but her father slowly finished his coffee and read his paper. Hermione could see the hint of a smile on his face as she grew more restless; she wanted to know what was going on. After what seemed like an age but had only been a few minutes, her father put down his mug and folded his paper. “Shall we?” He asked a twinkle in his eye.

 

Hermione leaped up from the table and hurried her parents along, wonder what this was all about. The parlour was an impersonal room, designed to greet guests and acquaintances, the main area had two slightly overstuffed love seats and two large armchairs made with dark wood and cream upholstery with lavender coloured cushions decorating the furniture. The rest of the room was simply decorated, with some plants and paintings. It had two large windows; the one opposite the door looked out onto the gardens and had a wide and short bookcase situated underneath it. From the other you could view the gravel path up to the houses entrance. On the final wall there was a small fireplace with an ornate mirror above. They were greeted with the sight of an older woman standing as they entered, she had her dark hair drawn back in a severe bun, and her clothes had a Victorian look to them and were in emerald green.

 

“I am Phoebe Granger and this is my husband Michael and our daughter Hermione. Please sit, did you want any tea?” Hermione’s mother said in a congenial manner, as Hermione’s parents settled into one of the loveseats, the woman sitting in the one opposite. Hermione climbed into one of the larger armchairs, her feet dangling as she sat watching the adults.

 

“I am fine thank you.” The woman responded calmly before getting to the point, “My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the deputy headmistress and a professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Minerva stated calmly.

 

Hermione stared blankly at the woman in front of her, witchcraft? That was absurd there was no such thing as magic it was legends and fairy-tales. Her thoughts were echoed in her father’s scoff at the preposterous notion and he opened his mouth to speak when the strange woman interrupted him, “I assure you that I am not joking. If you’d like I can demonstrate some magic for you?”

 

She waited until they nodded in acquiescence before withdrawing a long thin stick of wood and muttering under her breath she turned the sculpted dark wooden coffee table into a mottled brown and black tortoise. The tortoise blinked at them slowly, Hermione froze in shock and her mother gasped and lifted her legs away from the animal. Michael let out a yell and leaped out of his chair and away from the professor. Hermione forcibly shifted her gaze away from the table-turned-animal and stared at the woman sitting in front of her; the woman claimed to be from a school, and if that was so, what did it mean? Hermione’s thoughts trailed off.

 

“What is that?” Her father exclaimed, his usually happy demeanour sour.

 

“That is a tortoise. I can turn it back if you wish.” Professor McGonagall responded, barely batting an eye as she did as she’d offered. “I am the head professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, which I have just demonstrated. Stated simply, this is the ability to change things into something else. It is a very tricky discipline which I am proud to be a master of.”

 

Phoebe spoke in a quiet voice, “If you here to offer Hermione a place at your school, which must mean that she, has magic.”

 

“This is correct.” Minerva McGonagall agreed.

 

Hermione had already realised this and she did what any sensible person would do, she screamed. In her own head, of course, but the scream echoed down the corridors of her mind palace. The well organised library of her mind was shaking as new thoughts and ideas took root and destroyed preconceived notions of science and physics. How was magic possible? What was magic exactly? Was it a force? Energy? Sentient? How did one invoke it? Were instruments, wands she realised; it was a wand the professor had used, necessary for it to work? Did you have to use words or would thoughts work? Was there a certain language to it? What about pronunciation, how did that affect the workings? If magic was real what disciplines did that entail exactly? Hermione forced her mind to store these questions and the others that were just coming to her for later. She didn’t notice how she had taken the language from fantasy novels to describe the concepts she was debating.

 

“I can do magic.” She whispered in awe. Her parents turned their attention to her and she saw something shift in their eyes, the love and acceptance was overwhelming but it was tinged with something else, uncertainty? She wasn’t sure. But it drove ice into her heart and subconsciously that was the first moment she realised just how different she was.

 

“Yes, I’ve come to offer you a place at Hogwarts; it is the best school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Great Britain. It is standard practise to visit muggleborns in person. There are of course a number of other schools, but Hogwarts has steadfastly remained the best for decades. We are also blessed with Albus Dumbledore as our Headmaster; he is a well-renowned wizard.”

 

“What is magic exactly? What disciplines are there? Is magic language based? How did you do what you just did without breaking the laws of physics?” Hermione interrupted peppering the woman with questions before forcibly stopping herself, trying to not inundate the professor.

 

“The concept of magic is a tricky concept as no one is entirely sure what it is, there are however a number of theories and it is a widely debated topic. You cast spells through the use of Latin and other languages. As for the laws of physics, I am unsure exactly what you mean?”

 

Hermione started muttering to herself before Minerva could continue, “Which means magic would either have to be sentient or some form of attachment to sounds and is a phonetical based structure.” She paused pondering the idea, before answering the professor’s question, “Physics relate to the structure of the universe and its forces and atoms. What you did broke a number of laws that are meant to be unbreakable.” A dozen more questions came to her on top of the hundreds buzzing around in her brain.

 

“I see there are a number of books on the topics that you can always acquire.” Minerva responded slightly unsure, before moving on to explain the Hogwarts curriculum, “As for the subjects, we teach a diverse range of subjects at Hogwarts; Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Astronomy for first years, as well as compulsory flying lessons.” The latter of which Hermione blanched at, as the idea of being up in the air was not a comforting thought. But she quickly turned her attention back to the professor, “At the end of second year students are required to choose a minimum of two additional subjects from the following list: Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. Students cannot elect to drop any of the core subjects at this time. The students then take Ordinary Wizarding Level also known as OWLs in those subjects which are akin to O-Levels at the end of their 5th year before moving onto their NEWTs again akin to A-Levels. Other subjects such as Alchemy can also be offered if there is high demand.”

 

“So you expect our daughter to leave the very good school that she is attending to go to a magic school that does not even teach the core subjects of Mathematics, Science and English?!” Michel exclaimed.

 

“It is a good opportunity and I guarantee you if your daughter does not attend a part of her will be forever missing and undiscovered. Other muggle-born children have refused and tried learning later but they never achieved the knowledge or sense of belonging that those who attended a school of magic did. As for your comment about the subjects taken, the students write papers that are graded on English, as for Mathematics and Science; Potions, Herbology and Arithmancy if she chooses to take it, relate to those disciplines well.”

 

“Dad, I want to go.” Hermione said in a small voice before he lost his temper.

 

“She can always be tutored in the other subjects, she’s well above her age level already, and her school did ask us about if she wanted to move up a grade.” Hermione’s mother mentioned to Michael quietly, appearing to have seen how much her daughter wanted to go.

 

“They did?” Hermione exclaimed, go up another grade?

 

 

“Yes, we were going to tell you later today so you could decide for yourself.” Her mother said gently.

 

“Hogwarts is a boarding school located in Scotland, but there is nothing stopping you from teaching your daughter during the summer, other muggleborn students have done so before.”

 

“Boarding school.” Phoebe mumbled, now unsure about sending her only daughter away, particularly so far.

 

“What does that mean?” The question burst from Hermione before she could stop it, referring to the term muggleborn.

 

McGonagall looked confused for a moment, “Oh, I am sorry, magic folk refer to those without magic as muggles, as both of your parents don’t have magic you are a muggleborn.”

 

The simple statement made her apprehensive, sparking another set of ideas and questions. “What can you tell me about wizarding society?”

 

“It is a convoluted system that is better explained by someone more versed in the subject that I.” Minerva eluded. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the evasion now definitely knowing something was amiss.

 

Michael had slowly sat back down on the plush chair, though he avoided the coffee table and had been quietly conferring with Hermione’s mother when he drew the professors attention back to him, “We need to think on this of course but I do not like the idea of sending my daughter somewhere where we do not know the rules or have any weight in that world. Is there any way we can procure a tutor for her? Are there magical lawyers or someone who can act as a liaison?”

 

The deputy headmistress looked weary as she responded, “Of course there are magical lawyers and tutors.” It was slightly more unusual than what most parents asked for. “There are some who specialise in this field; however they tend to work on a case by case basis. That said, I think I know someone who might be slightly more to your liking. She’s is a former Hogwarts student and a Half-Blood. I will speak of the matter to her. As you have said that you want some time to consider, I shall take my leave of you and will return on Wednesday morning. If you decide that Hermione is going to Hogwarts, I will take you to Diagon Alley which is the primary wizard area of London to pick up necessities and school supplies.” Her exit was a little bit more rushed that it should have been but Minerva needed to get away. “One final thing before I take my leave of you, I must ask that you do not reveal any of this information to anyone else due to the Statute of Secrecy that surround the knowledge of magic and the magical community, only direct relations and certain other cases are allowed to know.” This statement was met with a stony nods and silence from Hermione’s parents.

 

“I’ll show you out.” Hermione said standing and darting towards the door before her parents could say no, she wanted to ask the woman some more questions. As they walked the short distance to the main entrance, Hermione took into account the look of the lady in front of her, how archaic was this society if the Victorian dress code was anything to go by? She’d have to evaluate the society very carefully, something was obviously not right if it was still stagnant. Either that or it was the woman’s particular style. Or perhaps they did not know much about how muggles dressed, Hermione frowned to herself at her thoughts, none of them were boding well. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to scheme but never on such a daunting level. “If my parents decide I am not to go to Hogwarts, will my magic be blocked or taken away?”

 

Minerva froze at the question, not expecting it to emanate from such a young girl. “No, it is unlikely that would happen; there is no known way to strip magic. That said you and your parents would probably be obliviated; your memories erased.” She clarified after a moment’s thought. “It is mostly impossible to retrieve obviated memories yourself, as it requires the use of a mind healer. That said you are magical so you may rediscover the society accidentally, you will also be asked again when you turn 17, when witches and wizards become legal adults, whether or not you want to join the Wizarding World. That will be the last time you are formally asked.”

 

Hermione nodded as if she had expected the answer. “Muggleborns are looked down in the wizarding world, aren’t they?”

 

“You see lots child.” The professor responded looking at her sharply, “Yes, in some parts they are. Prejudice exists everywhere after all. Some believe that muggleborns have less magic, which is absolutely preposterous. We have ways of measuring magical ability after all.”

 

“You do, how does it work? Can I find out my results?”

 

“It’s a complicated process that is performed when the witch or wizard’s core, which is their ability to shape magic, is matured. This is usually when the witch reaches 17, hence the age of majority. A number of our society has the ability to sense magic and power levels as well. It is a useful skill.”

 

“Like IQ?” Hermione wondered to herself, though that system was riddled with holes, before asking “What are the levels of the magical aptitude?”

 

Minerva considered the child in front of her; they had nearly reached the entrance. “There are a number of levels, depending on your score. The highest score ever achieved has been 289, which was Merlin; it was rumoured that he was more powerful than the founders of Hogwarts. It was Merlin who devised the way to measure a magic core as something quantifiable. 0 to 50 are muggles, 50 to 100 are squibs; they are those born of magical parents who have very little magical ability. 100 to 150 are most of the population of witches and wizards, 150 to 200 are sorcerers and sorceresses, 200 to 250 are enchanters and enchantresses, 250 and above are mages. Does that answer your question?”

 

“For now.” The girl responded before opening the door for the older lady who smiled slightly at the response and muttered something about a headache tonic before bidding her farewell. Hermione watched her leave, her brain awhirl with information and just as she was about to turn away the professor vanished with a loud pop. Startled Hermione closed the door and leant against it. Not entirely sure how to respond. Seeking solace she wandered absently from the front door to the large double story library that was her favourite room and curled up on her the most comfortable chair, and wrapping the blanket that had been draped over it, around her.

 

Hermione delved inwards into her mind, entering in from her usual point of the greenhouse, as she opened the door she found the library in almost complete disarray perfectly showing the state of her mind and her questions. She quickly set about sorting out all the books and rooms, it was exceedingly slow going and there were a number of empty pockets and questions that haunted her, her mind warring with itself. It felt like her logical scientific mind was shouting at her. She’d played games of trying to hold opposite ideas in her head at the same time before to little success, she now found herself confronted with proof of separate ideas. Hermione focused on ordering her thoughts, but instead of placing the concepts of science and logic back where they had been she focused on creating two different rooms, it was difficult work as she had never created another room before. One she filled with all the scientific knowledge she currently possessed and another with the small amount of magic knowledge she had along with all the questions she had. It was painstaking work but Hermione doggedly continued, adamant that she would not leave her mind till it was done. Finally when the rooms were structured enough to still be there when she returned and the rest of the chaos is slightly more organised, she started to withdraw from her mind. Hermione would have to spend some more time working on it over the next couple of days and weeks; perhaps she’d find information that would be useful to her in Diagon Alley. It was only as she was leaving her mind that a thought occurred to her; that it was possible her ability to do this could be related to her magic, after all no one else she knew had ever done it. She’d assumed that she just hadn’t met anyone yet. Let that be a lesson in assumptions.

 

Hermione was pondering the idea of what would happen to her mind palace if she was obliviated, in case her parents decided they weren’t going to let her go, the possibilities were frightening. When her parents entered the room, they’d obviously been talking between themselves for the past however long she’d been holed up in the library and in her mind. It must have been hours she realised. “Why aren’t you at work?”

 

“We called in saying something had arisen, we also cancelled your tutor appointments for today.” Hermione’s mother said gently as she nudged her daughter over. The chair was barely big enough for both of them and Hermione had to move so she was half sitting on her mother, who wrapped her arms around her. It was a nice comforting embrace and helped to centre her after everything that had happened.

 

“What’s happening then?” Hermione asked, hating how quiet her voice was.

 

Michael paced slightly, “Your mother and I have always valued your choices, as we believed that you should have a say in things concerning you.” He then slumped slightly and dropped resignedly into the seat opposite. “We have decided that you may go to Hogwarts.”

 

“Really?” Hermione squealed in excitement hugging her mother tighter.

 

Mr. Granger smiled at his daughter’s glee, though his body still projected a slight weariness.  “Yes, though we do have a number of rules; no dating; don't accept food or gifts from anyone else as you don’t know what magical properties it might have. Let us know if you need any help with anything, if it’s something we can’t help with hopefully you’ll be able to reach out to a teacher, tutor or the liaison.”

 

“Also no scheming is allowed.” Hermione’s mother interjected, before lowering her breath and whispering into her daughter’s ear, “At least until you understand the status quo and can defend yourself better.”

 

Michael rolled his eyes at his wife’s behaviour but they both knew that stopping their daughter from plotting was almost as impossible as stopping her from reading. “Most importantly, keep in contact; we want to hear from you at least twice a week. Finally, if you get concerned or scared we'll give you money to get on the first train back home.”

 

“Dad, I’m not going to be dating anyone!” Hermione whined at the concept before agreeing to the stipulations. “Thank you daddy!” She called out extracting herself from her mother and moved over to throw her arms around her father and hug him instead. The Grangers laughed at their daughter’s antics. 


	3. Chapter Two.

Professor McGonagall apparated back to the outskirts of Hogwarts, she stared up at the imposing structure of the castle, glad to be back home. Her head hurt from the visit she’d just paid, the number of questions the family had asked her, coupled with the requests they had made were not helping matters. A nice relaxing cup of tea was in order before she set about seeing to the Granger’s requirements. She checked her timepiece as she walked through the smaller side gate that was used when the school was not in session, as the smaller breach in the protective enchantments meant less of the power maintaining the wards was used and they did not need to be strengthened as much. Though the barrier was also strengthened just before the carriage and boat-load of children arrived. It was twenty-eight minutes past 11 in the morning, not yet lunchtime but a number of hours had passed. She’d have to think over who to contact, but Minerva had to admit there were two particular people she thought were best suited to the Granger’s needs. However she was unsure that they would either be amiable or even available to provide their services. She’d fire-call them after her tea.

 

Deep in her thoughts as she walked through the corridors of Hogwarts and headed towards her office a loud crash startled her out of her musings. More crashing sounds emanated from the corridor and she quickly hurried over to find Peeves swooping away, having created a ruckus and blowing raspberries at the top of his well, ghostly lungs.

 

Professor McGonagall grumbled and yelled after the poltergeist as he went, dreading what the extent of the mess would be. The decorative suits of armour that usually stood imposing along the corridor were strewn across the floor in a jumbled mess; some were sticking out from portrait frames or hanging from the ceiling in a mockery of chandeliers. She sighed and set to work clearing the corridor, the portraits nattering on at her as she did.

 

It was much later than she’d intended when she finally got back to her office, only to find Albus waiting for her. Smothering a grimace, she smiled at him warmly, though she was not entirely sure she was in the right mood to handle Albus at the moment.

 

“Ah, Minerva there you are my dear!” Albus called out to her.

 

“What is it Albus?” She inquired, her temper short. Albus did not respond and gestured towards her office, asking after the Grangers as they entered.

 

McGonagall took off her overcoat and draped the item over one of the armchairs she had near the fire, it was a good location to talk to students to without the imposing desk between them, as well as take floo calls. “She has an avid thirst for knowledge.” Minerva responded carefully.

 

“Good good. A Ravenclaw then?”

 

“It is impossible to say, as you well know Albus.” Minerva responded as they sat in the two plush deep red armchairs, wary at admitting her suspicions that the girl would be a Slytherin.

 

“Yes, you are quite right by dear, “He granted cordially, “I also stopped by to let you know that the ‘Social Studies’ programme has been approved, in which muggle and wizarding cultures are taught. It is now mandatory for students until their OWL’s and optional afterwards. I’ve just come from hiring the new Professor, he’s rather interesting, if I do say so myself.”

 

“Why Albus, that’s wonderful, we’ve been fighting so long to get it approved, it feels like forever.”

 

“Oh a good 6 or so years, and yes it is,” He agreed before saying, almost absently, “I’m sending Hagrid to collect Harry.”

 

Minerva’s eyes widened and she forced herself not to say anything rash, thrown by the quick conversation change. It was all well and good sending Hagrid, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t take of the boy or didn’t have the right to collect the boy. But she wondered what impression the man would make on the young boy about the wizarding world. Harry had been raised by muggles after all, and not very nice ones from the secret reports she’d been hearing. Quickly she hid the thoughts away and was about to speak when Albus spoke up first, “I understand you are frustrated at this, but I hope you understand that it is for the best.”

 

Why it was ‘for the best’ she wanted to scream at the old man, her belief in him had been steadily shaken over the years. But the people he had left the poor Potter boy with had eroded the last of it almost completely, a part of her still held out hope. She’d had half a mind to take the boy away from them numerous times. Outwardly she betrayed none of her thoughts and feelings, “Hagrid will be delighted, but I insist that they join the Grangers and I in Diagon Alley on Wednesday, that way he’ll be able to meet one of his teachers and also a fellow student in a similar position as him,” Albus started to interject but she continued, “She will not care or know of his origins and it is after all in his best interests.” She echoed his words back at him.

 

Dumbledore seemed to deflate slightly as he acquiesced knowing there was no polite way of saying no. He abruptly rose as if sensing that if he stayed any longer Hagrid would not be going at all. After a comment about getting back to work and a cordial farewell, he left.

 

Minerva frowned to herself, her thought of a restful cup of tea forgotten. It was now imperative that Hermione Granger came to Hogwarts. She glanced at the floo considering the messaged she was going to send and shook her head, figuring that there was more urgency to sorting this out now then there had been. She stood and quickly went through the door behind her desk that lead to aroom before her apartments and changed out of the more muggle outfit into witch robes and on her way out she donned her cloak. She hurried out of Hogwarts, ignoring Peeves who was still blowing raspberries at her. She strode across the grounds and through the smaller gate, determination in her stride.

 

She hastily apparated once she was free of Hogwarts grounds, though mindful not to splinch herself. She appeared into a designated alleyway off from the main street, it was set up so that only one apparation could happen at a time, and it was a genius piece of spell work. She paused before leaving, debating with herself and then, deciding that her paranoia was getting the better of her, she left the relative safety of the alley and headed to Goldbrook and Mills; a premier wizarding law firm that a former student of her worked for.

 

~*~

* * *

 

~*~

 

Samantha Yates had a decent office on the 10th floor of the building, particularly considering her age, so it was a little on the smaller side, it was much better than the shoebox she’d been in originally. She’d gotten it by procuring a very prestigious client and was in the middle of paperwork when her secretary knocked and entered,

 

“You have a professor McGonagall to see you,” James said.

 

Sam looked up surprised and she put down the paperwork in shock, what on earth was her old transfiguration teacher and mentor doing here, in person and especially without calling ahead. It must be important. Hastily she put the papers away and tidied up her desk, trying to make it look more presentable for the stern professor. When she was ready she nodded for James to go back out and escort the older woman in.

 

“Professor McGonagall,” Sam said greeting her happily as she rose from behind her desk and moved over to the woman, “What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to visit me?”

 

“Samantha, how many times have I told you to call me Minerva,” The old admonition falling fondly from her mouth.

 

“Innumerable and this won’t be the last time either Professor.” Sam responded in kind whilst passing a critical eye over the woman in front of her, she looked tired. She gestured for the older woman to sit in the more comfortable area reserved primarily for clients and asked whether the woman had eaten, concern radiating from her voice. “We can always go out for a meal?”

 

“I’d rather stay here, but I’d love a bite to eat and a cup of tea.” The older professor said as she settled herself on the comfortable couch, taking in the accoutrements of the office, Sam had done relatively well for herself. Nodding Sam spoke quietly to James before closing the door and activating the privacy wards, Minerva seemed to relax slightly as she did.

 

“Now, Professor,” She said sitting in her usual armchair which was opposite the woman and reaching out to hold her hand, “Why is it you’ve come to visit your favourite old student?”

 

Minerva scoffed at that, a small smile lighting up her face, before stating more seriously, “I have a new student who I have little doubt will be brilliant. That is, if she attends Hogwarts; she’s a muggleborn, you see.” McGonagall clarified, “Her parents want to put a magical solicitor on retainer as their liaison to the magical world.”

 

Samantha raised an eyebrow, this was sometimes the case but to come to her for it, these muggles must want something more, or at least McGonagall did. However there were specialist solicitors available, she said as much to her old professor.

 

“This family will require trust and need more connections and information that the standard people could provide.”

 

“They sound like Slytherins.” Samantha said jokingly.

 

“If they were magical that would not surprise me.” She paused, “I also came to you as you understand the differences in the worlds and can traverse them more easily.” She trailed off as if wondering how to phrase the next part.

 

“I also have experience with being a half-blood in Slytherin.” She stated bluntly for the woman in front of her. But she nodded thoughtfully at what Minerva was saying; she could help this young girl. She’d been raised in both worlds by her parents which had been terrifically difficult particularly during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s reign of terror. Her parents; a pure-blood and a muggle-born had escaped to a different country when she was a child and were sheltered by an old family friend. Their son Ivan had become like a brother to her and he’d followed her to Hogwarts after the war ended. It had been a good life, but with the war threatening to spill over and her parents feeling as though they needed to fight for their world, they had started ferrying people out of the country. Some stayed with the Petrovics after her parents had pressured them into opening their homes to those fleeing from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Samantha shook herself; her thoughts had run away from her.

 

“I’d have to meet them, before agreeing to anything, and it will depend on whether or not they can afford the fee.” She said hesitantly as a quiet knocking on her door interrupted her, excusing herself she answered it and found James levitating a tray outside, she moved out of the way so that he could move the tray over to the coffee table where they’d been sitting. “Thank you James, go and take your lunch break.” She said dismissing him, he smiled and said his thanks before leaving the office. Sam closed the door and checked the privacy spells that surrounded and permeated the office.

 

“Thank you.” McGonagall said brewing the tea for both of them, “I understand that this is all very untoward, Samantha.” She gazed critically up at the young woman in front of her and seeming to make a decision she stood up and walked over to Sam, they were standing away from any furniture; there weren’t even any rugs underneath. Minerva slowly removed her wand and gracefully cast a number of tricky spells in quick succession. It astounded Sam who only recognised a fraction of them. They were spells to reveal and for privacy. Many more than she had realised existed, but then again, wizards do like their privacy.  McGonagall shakily lowered her wand, she’d found a couple of spying spells, some inert and others active; she’d nullified those ones. Sam stared at her old Professor, as she frowned and glanced around before lowering her shoulder in resignation and then calling out, “Intimitatem dome,” and a white film enclosed McGonagall and Samantha where they were standing in a privacy dome. Sam looked towards her former teacher, her eyes were wide in shock.

 

“Professor?” She asked her voice lilting and breaking slightly at the end of the word.

 

“I don’t have much time with this spell, it’s very taxing and before we continue, I need to know that I have your complete trust.”

 

Samantha chewed her bottom lip looking at the shimmering almost translucent light of the caved walls surrounding them. She raised her arm as if to touch it but drew back, whatever this was, it was serious and for some reason McGonagall had to chosen to try and trust her of all people. A Slytherin. She looked back at the transfiguration professor, who had a slight pinched look on her face. Sam thought back on all the help the woman had given her a half-blood Slytherin, just after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s terrorisation had ended and she found herself responding with a simple, “Yes.”

 

Minerva smiled at this, “I am unable to perform the unbreakable vow due to the lack of castor, however I wish you to view this talk as if you have taken it.” Sam nodded solemnly and McGonagall gathered her words for a moment before beginning, “Very well, I will start at the beginning, however I may choose to not go into certain details. When the wars happened everyone did things that they regretted, it all became so absolutists,” She looked ready to start on a tirade but visibly calmed herself and continued, “The light side followed Dumbledore almost blindly and I for a time did too. I saw things during that turbulent time and I know what you are thinking, that it was war and is to be expected. Certain incidents stand out more than most and to my shame, I either was not able to or did not intervene. However the final thing that destroyed my faith in our so called leader of the light, is what he did after the war had ended to a baby boy who was barely one year old and had saved the wizarding world.” Sam couldn’t help but gasp at this, subconsciously clenching her fists, as Minerva continued, “Through the use of blood magic he sheltered the boy with the muggle family on his mother’s side. I protested then and have checked up on him surreptitiously since. They are the worst kind of muggles, full of prejudice and abuse. I intend to do something about this however my hands have been severely tied by how Harry had no knowledge of this world and his inheritance.” The professor closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, “But that is not the reason for my visit, it is but a part of it. Even though Hagrid is collecting the boy, I have managed it so that he will be shopping in Diagon Alley with myself and the Grangers.”

 

“You intended for them to friends, particularly as they will both be new-comers to the world and have few preconceived notions.” Sam inferred.

 

“Yes, I do. It is also my hope that he will join them on her tutoring sessions which is the other thing I will need you help with, the Grangers have requested a tutor for their daughter primarily and also for themselves to enlighten them as to our society and so on, but more on that topic later. What can you sense of the magical aura around me?”

 

Sam furrowed her brow and concentrated, many witches and wizards could sense the magic of those around them. For some it was an easy thing, for others not so much and everyone experienced it in a different way. Samantha had been lucky to have keen senses; Ivan had to concentrate mush harder than she did. She closed her eyes and centred herself letting her attention be drawn to the tingling sensation on her skin. Opening her eyes she saw and felt the power and personality of McGonagall; the sensation of a forest glade and the strength of large cats. McGonagall after all scored highly on the index, she was technically an Enchantress. But Sam’s attention was drawn away, only of the benefits of having keener sense was being able to sense the after-echo of the magic users who had recently come in contact with the witch; she filtered out the passerbys and the sweet, almost sickly and overpowering aura that belonged to Dumbledore. What drew her attention was the smell of books and mint that was nearly above the witch level of power. Sam couldn’t help but gasp and take a step backwards from the sensation. “An eleven year old with that level of power already?” She exclaimed, her knees starting to grow weak, “Will her power grow further?”

 

“I have no idea, it is entirely possible that she will only be a sorcerer class, it is also possible that she could become a mage. I’ve been battling a headache the entire time I was visiting them. The amount of pressure building with the range of emotions flying around was staggering. You will need strong mental shields when you meet her. It is another reason I wish to get her a tutor to help her learn to control the sensation of her magic and possibly how to conceal her strength.”

 

“Between her and Harry Potter, what magic levels should we expect?”

 

“I am unsure, one would think a great amount, but her power might not grow and I fear there is something blocking young Harry’s.” McGonagall frowned whilst saying this but did not delve further.

 

“Why come to me, you have my help, but why trust me?”

 

“I know what you value and I need someone with your knowledge, connections and even deviousness.”

 

Sam stared at the older woman standing in front of her. She was talking of of changing how things were. She licked her lips nervously. This is how revolutions were born wasn’t it, between two old friends in a smaller office in London. Subverting the plans of the powerful. She shuddered, unsure if she wanted this but then she thought of the two children who were about to enter their world and be inescapably caught up in the turbulence. She thought of the terrifying days of her childhood and setting her mouth in a grim line she turned her attention back to her old professor, to her friend. Musing about whether she should start calling her Minerva. Sam pushed the errant thought aside and resolutely pondered and questioned a number of things that McGonagall had told her. “Where do we start?”

 

They had run out of things to say that required the use of the privacy case and the professor released the spell. Sam had to partially support the Professor as they returned to their chairs. The sandwiches were still edible and were delicious but unfortunately the tea had long since gone cold, McGonagall sighed sadly looking forlornly at the drink. Sam knew reheated tea was disgusting from previous experience. She quickly evaporated the old tea and started a new pot.

 

“I will need you help when procuring the required tutor for the Grangers.” McGonagall informed her.

 

“Who did you have in mind?”

 

“You former tutor; Valerie de Marignan.”

 

“But she only tutors the elite.” Sam said dumfounded, Madam de Marignan had been a very strict tutor that had tutored both her and Ivan.

 

“Yes, she is one of the best tutors.” Minerva stated matter-of-factly, and Sam could read between the lines; Madam de Marignan would provide all the necessary training that a pureblood entering high society would require, let alone a muggleborn; which would be very useful to both of them, especially if either of them ended up in Slytherin.

 

“How are you going to get her to agree?” Sam asked cautiously.

 

“She owes me a favour and I was hoping to have your support on the matter. I’d like to visit her as soon as possible, you joining me of course. However I will have to address decorum to appease her.”

 

“That will work best,” Sam said thinking of her old stern tutor, “I will send a missive myself. Do you want her to be a long-term tutor?”

 

“I am unsure, it will be up to Grangers, but I could very well see her being kept on retainer as a part time tutor for certain things. I do think that some of the questions Miss. Granger asks would be too much for her.”

 

Sam smiled and thought to herself of Ivan, it sounded like the Granger girl would get along well with him. Now there’s an idea, she thought and he had tutored before. She would have to think on it and evaluate the girl when she met her. After this the conversation wound down and McGonagall made her goodbyes and informed Samantha that they would let her know on the day when they would call on her former tutor. It was only after McGonagall left, that Samantha realised that she practically agreed to take on the Grangers already. She frowned at the thought and stared absently at the office in front of her. All of the information she’d learned tumbling around in her head. She walked over to the whiskey that she kept for clients and poured herself a finger-full and swallowed it in one. It had been a long lunch.


	4. Chapter Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for the late update, I am still intending on writing this and my other fics, but I have a number of problems with motivation. I was also exceedingly busy with work, I ended up covering numerous shifts in different parts of the country.
> 
> Also lets assume the silly letter stuff happened...

Harry Potter woke to the sound of his aunt’s shrill voice at his door. The smaller bedroom he'd recently moved into felt strange to sleep in, as he was not used to being in a place so open, after the claustrophobic nature of the closet under the stairs. He blinked tiredly, looking around the room. It was a disarray of broken things, mostly toys that Dudley had destroyed and refused to throw away, claiming that he might have a use for them one day. Harry felt very small in the double bed, unaccustomed to having so much room to himself. He absently wondered if he could remove some of the random smattering of objects as he moved to get dressed, nearly stubbing his toe on a number of things. He navigated the slalom course of the room. Obviously he couldn't ask his aunt and uncle to move things, but when they went out, he might be able to put some things in the attic and other storage places.

 

Harry called out that he would be down in a minute to cook breakfast, and waited to hear her footsteps move along the hall and down the stairs. The hairs on the back of his neck raised as he remembered the sounds and the feeling of loud and heavy feet shaking his would-be bedroom. He absently finished dressing in the clothes he'd laid out on one of the less cluttered areas of the room the night before, and journeyed back through the room. His jeans had holes in the legs and were slightly baggy - he had to cinch the waist tightly - but they were black with no stains on them, and the navy t-shirt was the best fitting one he had.

 

His thoughts were on today. Hagrid was coming to pick him up and they were going shopping for his school supplies and other necessities. The half-giant was all but ready to take him away the moment they'd met, when he'd burst into the creaky, desolate tower they'd been staying in, but instead he'd said that would be going to Diagon Alley with one of his teachers and a Muggle-born student who was to be in his year. Harry was rather relieved at the chance to breathe and wrap his head around the whole idea that he was a wizard, still slightly afraid at the prospect he might be going slightly mad. It was while pondering this that he entered the kitchen, barely noticing the tenser air around his aunt and uncle, and immediately started to make a full English breakfast, which is what his uncle and cousin had every morning (his aunt did too, but smaller, and always without black pudding). Still deep in thought, the memory of the lounge being flooded with letters couldn't be fake, could it? No. He could feel the shape of the letter in his pocket that Hagrid had given him. It was real. It had to be.

 

He'd kept the letter near him ever since, worried that if he put it down, it'd vanish, along with everything else, even with a second letter hidden away behind a loose skirting board panel. One that Harry had grabbed that fateful day in the lounge, shoving one of the letters that fell to the floor into his trousers, before running and jumping and making as big a show as possible to try and grab a letter. It very nearly worked - his extended family hadn't noticed that he'd done it, but they'd never left him alone, mindful of the blizzard of letters in the living room. He cursed himself that he didn't open the first letter in the hallway, but he had been so shocked at actually receiving something addressed to him, that he had not been thinking clearly. Harry finished up the breakfast and served it to his cousins, but had to wait before he could get something for himself. The rest of the morning passing normally for the Dursley residence; his aunt and uncle ignoring Harry, and Dudley sending what he thought were barbed jibes his way. That was until breakfast was over and his uncle asked him,

 

"So when is this supposed wizard showing up?

 

Petunia paled, as though the thought of the large man standing in their doorway still terrified her. After all what would the neighbours think, and more importantly, say? Harry mentally chuckled at the thought. However, whatever amusement he got from it was mixed with apprehension that this was all a big trick and Hagrid would not be coming to pick him up. Harry was just starting to open his mouth and respond when there was a knock on the door like a military drumbeat, rattling the house and Petunia's nerves. Vernon turned a rather ugly pale green, and Dudley ran from the room, edging up the stairs, away from the sound, as if hiding in his room would protect him.

 

"Well, what are you waiting for boy? Go and answer it!" Vernon said, his voice quivering behind his copy of the _Daily Mail_ , his meaty knuckles turning pale, newspaper crumpling in his grip. Harry scampered out of the room before either of them could said anything else. He breathed for a moment, trying to calm himself and opened the door.

 

Standing outside, looking perplexed and towering over the car, was Hagrid.

 

“Hagrid!” Harry said excitedly, it was real.

 

“Harry, m'boy! Are yer ready to go?”

 

“Nearly! I’ll be just a minute. Wait here?” Harry asked before running upstairs, quickly cleaning his teeth and futilely trying to do something with his hair. He had never felt lighter - no money, no possessions, nothing. He left his family cowering in Privet Drive and shut the door firmly behind him.

 

“Hagrid, how exactly are we getting to London?”

 

“Why, by bike of course!” Hagrid said grinning and only then did Harry see the large bike and sidecar parked on the road. “Don’ worry, Professor McGonagall made sure all the protection and concealment charms were workin' correctly. Strengthened 'em a bit, too!”

 

Harry nodded, but found himself drinking in the bike. Was this _really_ the one from his dream? “Hagrid, did you drop me off here, on this bike?”

 

“'Course I did! You fell asleep as we were flyin'. But you couldn’t remember tha', you were barely one!"

 

“I don’t. I mean, not really, just flashes that I dreamt.”

 

“Er, right. Oh blimey, is that the time? We really should get goin'!”

 

And after checking an imaginary watch, he hoisted Harry up and into the side-car. Harry stifled a yelp at this before Hagrid was astride the bike himself, testing his weight and position. He started up the bike and they roared off down the street. Harry had quickly put on the goggles he’d been given, when he saw Hagrid put on his own. Towards the end of the road, they started to rise into the air. Harry would have whooped at being airborne, had the wind not stole his breath away.

 

The ride over the countryside and into the city was uneventful but enjoyable, though Harry could barely hear Hagrid’s explanation, over the sound of the engine and the air rustling past them, to Harry that one of the buttons he had pressed had hidden them from view. “Don’ wanna go breakin' the Statue o' Secrecy.” Harry could practically hear the capitalisation of the words. When they were above a slightly more remote area of London, Hagrid shouted to let him know they would be landing here, Harry watched fascinated at how the half-giant, so ungainly on the ground, went through all of his checks like he'd been riding the bike all his life, and set them down. Harry had been slightly terrified of the initial moment of hitting the earth, but he barely even noticed the jolt.

 

“We go along the roads from here; it’s not tha' far to the Leaky Cauldron, and there should be some spaces for us to park. We’re meeting the Grangers and Professor McGonagall there. Tom, the owner, he was kind enough to offer us a small private room. I hope yer hungry boy, we’re probably gonna have brunch there.”

 

“But I can’t afford it.” Harry was glad the bike covered the sound of his stomach rumbling.

 

Hagrid waved it off with a hand the size of a dustpan lid. “Don' worry about tha', Harry. Besides, the meal is on Hogwarts, eat what you will. Though, that reminds me we’ll have to stop by Gringotts Bank.” Hagrid mused to himself as they rode through the streets of London, taxis and buses ignorant to the presence of a gargantuan bearded biker joining their ranks.

 

“Is this what you do for all Muggle-borns or students from Muggle homes, then?”

 

Hagrid frowned. “Well…yes and no. We tend to have the visit in person, let them know that magic is real, that type of thing. We didn’t realise we’d have to do the same for you. Yer aunt knows about magic, what with yer mum bein' a witch an' all.”

 

“So this is a consolation thing then?”

 

“Almost. See, the Muggle-born and Muggle-raised, they all meet earlier in the summer, when Diagon Alley is a bit quieter. Gives 'em more time to get accustomed to magic and to get to know some of their future classmates. The Grangers were out of the country when tha' happened and what with the stuff that happened to your letter. I was just gonna take yer straight to Diagon Alley, but Professor McGonagall put her foot down. Said this would be easier and nicer for the both of yer, that it would be best if you both at least knew one person before going to Hogwarts.” Hagrid smiled. “She's right, by the way. Great woman, that McGonagall.”

 

Harry felt a sudden rush of gratitude to this Professor McGonagall, but he also got the impression that something else was going on. But before he could ask Hagrid any more, they were at their destination, and had pulled up to a parking space in an open car park, no longer disillusioned after all. He got off the bike and lifted Harry out too. “You might want to wipe yer face down, my boy.” Harry looked in the wing-mirror. Sure enough, he had dust and grime on his face where he hadn’t been wearing the goggles. He quickly wiped off his face and made himself look more presentable, making a note to wear a scarf the next time he ended up flying to London by enchanted motorcycle.

 

“Harry, yer mind givin' me a hand?” Hagrid called over from the ticket machine, Harry looked at the smattering of change in his enormous hands, quickly counted out enough for a long stay, and told Hagrid what to do with the tickets.

 

Once that was sorted Hagrid quickly led Harry through the relatively bustling streets of London. Their destination was an old Victorian looking pub, sandwiched between two shops that didn’t seem to know it was there. There was a sign announcing the Leaky Cauldron and it had a motif of a cauldron leaking, underneath the writing.

 

Hagrid shepherded him into the pub, the Victorian style carried through into the interior, it took a moment for Harry’s eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting; they were using candles. It was also a lot quieter, the occupants were chatting amongst themselves but there wasn't any sound from the outside world. Was it a spell, or just really thick walls?

 

“The usual, Hagrid?” A man called from behind the bar “Or are you joining the others?”

 

“Sorry Tom, but me and young Harry here are joining the others. I might stop by for a pick-me-up, though!” Hagrid called back. Harry stalled, a strange hush had seemed to come over the room when Hagrid had said that.

 

“Right-o, they’re in room 6. I'll leave you both to it.”

 

Hagrid nodded and started to lead Harry through the maze of tables and walls. His skin started to crawl at the feel of dozens of eyes in their direction, no longer chattering amongst themselves. It was like all the air had been sucked out by a vacuum, with everyone’s gazes were on them.

 

No. On him.

 

“Ah Professor!” Hagrid called out, breaking the silence and Harry’s thoughts. “Didn’t see you there. You joinin' us and Professor McGonagall?” Harry tore his gaze away from the uncomfortable room, to the person Hagrid was addressing. He was a pale man with a peculiar purple turban wrapped around his head and as they approached, there was a scent of garlic emanating from him.

 

“Rubeus, a p-p-p-leasure.” Professor Quirrell said, visibly uncomfortable, “Join you?”

 

“Just taking Harry here, shopping for Hogwarts supplies. We’re meeting with Minerva and a couple others for brunch, they didn’t get a chance to meet with the others earlier this summer.” Hagrid informed Quirrell, the rest of what he was saying fell into the background for Harry, as he looked around the pub, excited whispering had broken out and he was perplexed as to why he was at the centre of it. “Isn’t that right, young Harry?” Hagrid commented, drawing back Harry’s attention.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

“I was telling Professor Quirrell how excited you were to start Hogwarts.”

 

“Oh yes, of course I am, it’s nice to meet you too Professor.” Harry responded holding out his hand. Quirrell looked at it for a moment before extending a gloved hand and shaking Harry’s, retracting his hand quickly as though it might bite him. Before Hagrid could say something more an older witch stepped out of one of the private dining rooms.

 

“There you are, Hagrid. I was beginning to think something had happened.”

 

“No Minerva, just chatting to Professor Quirrell here.” He said thumping the smaller man on the shoulder, Harry could see the man’s knees nearly buckle.

 

“Ah Quirinus, are you joining us?”

 

“N-n-no, Minerva, I d-d-don't think I s-s-shall.” Quirrell managed to get out.

 

McGonagall nodded, as if expecting the answer before turning to Hagrid and Harry, “Well come on in then, best not keep the Granger’s waiting,” She said herding the two of them into the private room. “It was good to see you, Quirinus.” She said bidding him farewell.

 

Then they were gone from the room and Harry could have sworn that just before the door shut and they were cut off from outside sound, that the room exploded with the noise of people talking. The relative silence and lack of people in the private room was nice. There were four people in the midst of a conversation who looked over as they entered. Most of them seemed slightly taken back at Hagrid’s size but they smiled warmly in greeting.

 

“May I introduce Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Groundskeeper at Hogwarts, and your future classmate, Mr Harry Potter?” Professor McGonagall said to the room. “I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, head of Gryffindor House and head of the Transfiguration department.” She said introducing herself to Harry before moving on to the others. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and their daughter Hermione.” They smiled back, the Grangers had a kindly air to them, the father was slightly older with curly salt and pepper and crinkles from smiling and laughing, the mother was a good ten years younger than him, with luscious brown hair and darker skin, their daughter was a mix of the two, and her hair was a bushy brown that looked just has hard to tame as Harry’s did. She seemed to have an inquisitive energy about her and was watching the proceedings with interest. “And this is Samantha Yates; she’s an old student of mine who the Grangers are retaining as a liaison.” McGonagall said introducing the final person in the room. She was wearing witches' robes, Harry realised; she was pretty in a dainty kind of way with blond hair.

 

Harry felt a twinge of apprehension before forcing it away. Dudley wasn’t here to chase people away or tell them what a freak he was. He could actually make friends with someone for the first time in his life. He didn’t care about having many friends, but a couple that he could be loyal to and they would be loyal to him that sounded priceless. He was glad that he was only meeting one person his age, if it had been a group of people he wouldn’t have been able to fight his nervousness.

 

Everyone had been making there hello’s and Harry forced himself to join in where prompted. The adults were drawn into conversation, not so subtly leaving the two youngsters to talk between themselves. He looked around the room a bit more, it was a smallish room with paved floors and half wooden walls, it dominated by a large round wooden table and chairs, which could comfortably seat 10 people, the extra chairs had been removed however and the adults had all sat down, leaving the only free space next to Hermione. The chair was much more comfortable that Harry thought it would be from looking at it and he piled his plate with items from the turntable (he vaguely remembered Aunt Petunia bringing one home with pride, calling it a "Lazy Susan" or something similar). He smiled shyly at Hermione, who smiled at back him as if she too wasn’t sure how to make friends.

 

“It’s strange, isn’t it? I’m not entirely sure what to make of it all,” Hermione said, trying to break the ice.

 

“I keep thinking that it’s a dream,” He admitted, but didn’t want to say his fears of it all being a prank. He wasn’t sure how it could be after flying over England, but the niggling doubt in the back of his mind was there.

 

“Yes, but if it is, then it’s a wonderful one.” She said, smiling. “What do you think about the different classes?”

 

“I don’t actually know much about them, the letter just named them.”

 

Hermione seemed to light up at the idea of telling him the information and she launched into an explanation of the classes and also some background information she’d managed to pick up. Harry took in the knowledge gratefully, he’d been too uncertain to ask these things himself. “As you know we have the core subjects: Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy and Herbology, there’s also a number of extracurricular activities that you can take, depending up availability, your year and aptitude and so on. The only mandatory extracurricular is flying in first year.” Hermione shuddered a bit at that, “I’m not a fan of flying, always worried we're going to crash or something horrid!”

 

“I am, we flew most of the way here, and it was amazing.” Harry grinned.

 

Hermione clearly didn't share his enthusiasm, but she smiled nonetheless, before launching back into her explanation, there was a head of each subject and there at least two other teachers underneath them, each year is taught by a rotation of these three or more teachers, with the Heads mainly teaching the first years, the fifth years and the seventh years. With some courses, the NEWT level students, those in the sixth and seventh years, could apply to be teacher’s aides who helped out with the younger years, particularly if they’d chosen to go to get their mastery in the subject. “Some subjects such as Defence have a very high turnover, but others haven’t changed in years.”

 

“Like Transfiguration.” Professor McGonagall said. The two of them jumped, not realising that they had drawn the attention of the adults. “There’s also a new subject being added to the core ones, to replace the optional ‘Muggle Studies’ in your third year; ‘Social Studies’ which will be mandatory from first year until your fifth year and your OWLs. It will detail a number of Muggle things, such as their technology and science, as well as wizarding society and traditions. Sam’s fellow classmate, Mr Ivan Petrovic will be heading the new subject.”

 

“Ivan Petrovic?” Mr Granger asked, "I could have sworn I’ve heard that name before."

 

“You probably have, he’s been to a Muggle university and has published a number of papers and journals, mainly on physics.” Samantha said, smiling proudly from the back of the room.

 

The Grangers nodded in equal parts recognition and relief. Mr Granger continued, “We’re glad that there is more attention being put in this area, we were worried that a tutor before school started was not going to be enough.”

 

“We also have more information regarding that, we have yet to get confirmation however. Though Sam can give you some more detail on her, as she is one of her former pupils.” McGonagall explained to the Grangers.

 

“Tutor?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

 

“Yes, my parents and I were wanting someone to teach us about the wizarding world, its society and rules, as well as some basic magic and theory to prepare me for Hogwarts.”

 

“That sounds…fascinating?”

 

“Perhaps you could join us in the lessons,” Mrs Granger said, surprising him, “It would be good for the both of you, but of course it would depend on today and be up to Hermione and the tutor.” Hermione shifted slightly uncomfortable under her mother’s and everyone else’s gaze. After a slightly awkward pause, Hermione’s father asked Samantha what the tutor was like.

 

“Strict,” Sam said demurely, before laughing a throaty laugh. “But she’s the best in her field. A letter of recommendation from her can open all sorts of doors.”

 

“What she does?” Hermione enquired.

 

“She’s not an overly scientific tutor, but more of a societal one.” She paused and then continued, realising how that sounded. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a powerful witch and she’s exactly what you need right now. Many purebloods would kill for the chance to get her to teach their children.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the comment. She seemed to file it away to pursue it later.

 

“I will say, however, that after a couple of years you will probably need a more academic tutor from meeting you. I'd say just correspond with Madam de Marignan, she'll be happy to help you out.” The Grangers nodded in understanding as if they expected this to be the case. They probably did Harry realised.

 

“I think it’s about time we get going,” Professor McGonagall announced, pulling the conversation to a close.

 

But before they got up Harry interjected, “Professor, could you please tell me why those people were staring at me earlier?” He wanted to see the reactions of those around him: the Grangers looking confused; Sam glancing towards her superior as if wondering what to do; Hagrid's mouth opening and closing like a fish. But it was Professor McGonagall’s response that decided the matter. She turned pale, and Harry could swear he could see the gears in her head turning, trying to figure out what to say.

 

“Mr. Potter, you mean to tell me that you do not know?” She finally asked him, almost rhetorically.

 

"Know what?"

 

Professor McGonagall drew a breath, steeled herself and signalled for the others to stay seated, staying in her chair. “I suppose it is better that I explain things now. The Wizarding World has had a turbulent past. Decades ago, there was a movement of blood-purists-" She said 'blood-purists' as though she had swallowed a particularly unpleasant sweet. "-who believed that Muggleborns should not be part of wizarding society. They believed it enough to wage civil war against their fellow man. Hundreds were killed, wizard and Muggle alike. Families were made extinct.” The Grangers reeled back in shock and looked ready to shout at the woman.

 

“However,” McGonagall forcibly continued, steamrolling through their reaction, “these… _individuals_ are no more, and their leader gone. You are the reason for this, Harry. He attacked your home and killed your parents. We still do not know why; your mother and father fought against him, but this was not unusual amongst young witches and wizards. That night, for some reason, he could not kill you. We do not know exactly what happened that night; the nearest we can guess is that his curse rebounded onto him. You are the only known person to survive his wrath. You’re the boy who lived. You were placed with your family outside the wizarding world away from the politics of our world and for your protection.” She seemed to choke over the last word, as if she didn’t fully believe it.

 

“I see. What was his name?”

 

“You-Know-Who,” Hagrid whispered, looking terrified. Samantha just looked grim, with the air of someone who had grown up knowing this fear.

 

“I shall tell you his name only once, Mr Potter, but know that in our society it is not considered polite to call him by it. We call him as Hagrid demonstrated, as 'He Who Must Not Be Named', or any number of things.” Professor McGonagall paused, her features quite taut. “He called himself Lord Voldemort.”

 

Hagrid and Samantha flinched at this as though she had just cracked a whip over their heads, despite preparing for it. Harry just nodded and he glanced at Hermione next to him, a steely look in her eye.

 

McGonagall also turned to the Grangers. “I hope this does not affect your decision to entrust your daughter into our care, but rest assured that she will be highly protected and could be instrumental in changing opinions and healing our world.” The Grangers shared a look, their eyes slightly narrowed, but clearly moved by the speech.

 

“We suspected that things weren’t perfect,” Her father said.

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Hermione's mother stated, “but Hermione will be safer in the long run if she learns magic; however the choice is always hers-”

 

“I want to learn magic,” Hermione interrupted before anyone could say anything more. Harry stared at the girl. The strength it must take to find out that someone will be persecuted for who they are and to still persevere. It must be amazing. But Harry was still reeling from the information about his parents.

 

“Now, shall we continue?” Professor McGonagall said briskly, trying to move on from the awkward silence. “Our first stop will be the Wizarding bank, Gringotts.” She moved up from the table and put her cloak on, the hem flourishing behind her as she left, the others getting up and filing out. Harry trailed after them, nervous at all the gazes that would be in his direction.

 

Hagrid clapped him on the back and his knees buckled slightly. But it was the push that Harry needed to get moving. He quickly followed the rest of the party, trying to ignore the prickling sensation of having people stare at him. McGonagall had led them through the pub and out the back door into an alleyway. Harry and the Grangers watched with rapt attention as the professor tapped a series of bricks with her wand. For a moment, nothing happened.

 

Then they started to move, retracting and widening and opening to form a large archway, leading onto a bustling street filled with families and people in robes. Owls flew through the streets, some with letters clutched in their claws. The cacophony of sounds and sights was almost too much; Harry turned and saw Hermione with an awestruck look on her face. Harry supposed his didn’t look much better. Professor McGonagall seemed to be smothering a smile at their expressions. Sam and Hagrid had no such poker face - Sam's face had lit up, while Hagrid chuckled quietly (which, to everyone else, was the sound of a tiny thunderclap).

 

“Come along, then! No dawdling!” McGonagall was herding them through the street again. Diagon Alley had the feeling of a busy London street, but one that had travelled back in time a good hundred years or so. The buildings were Victorian, some were even Edwardian; they towered and leaned haphazardly, as though unable to stand under their own weight. Harry and the Grangers looked around amazed and astounded, pointing out things they’d spotted to each other as McGonagall led the group, making sure they didn’t get too distracted, after all there will be time to see and do things later.

 

The road split to make way for a towering white building that dwarfed the buildings around it. It had marbled columns along the steps leading up to it, exuding wealth while not being too gaudy. Harry found himself liking the austere building, for how clearly it distinguished itself from the ramshackle shops surrounding it. Professor McGonagall led the small group up the stairs and through the entryway; large back metal doors, a sharp contrast to the pristine white of the marble building. There was a plaque next to it, inscribed:

 

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

 

The lavish entryway was covered in more marble and accoutrements, leading into an antechamber with multiple exits. Some passages bore signs next to them, others did not, with some written in a series of squiggles and symbols that Harry couldn't recognise. One or two seemed to have guards stationed outside. He slowed down admiring the décor, noticing the Grangers stopping next to him out of the corner of his eye, fixated by both the decorations and the magic surrounding them. If it was incredible to him, how must it look to two Muggle adults who had grown up not knowing something like this was real? Professor McGonagall proved a gracious host and stopped for a moment, allowing them the chance to look around before gesturing for them to follow her through a relative maze of corridors into the main atrium area. It was a large room with towering ceilings and chandeliers, gems in the walls and floor and even in the air. Something about the positions niggled at Harry but he wasn’t sure what it was. He put it to the back of his mind as they walked down the rows of tellers. They were small creatures in stature with hooked noses and strong fearsome features.

 

“Goblins, Harry,” Hagrid tried whispering to him, “they run Gringotts,” but his deep voice echoed in the chamber. The goblins made no response to the loud giant, carrying on as if they hadn’t heard him. Harry nodded back, not speaking, though his head was practically buzzing with questions now. Instead, he and the Grangers followed the others through the many rows of goblin tellers to make their way to the one at the head of the chamber. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat when they reached an older goblin, sat at a raised podium with a metal sign underneath reading 'Head Goblin'.

 

“Excuse me,” She announced crisply, “Mr Potter would like to make a withdrawal, and Mr and Mrs Granger would like to set up an account on behalf of their daughter.”

 

The goblin slowly looked up from his paperwork and peered out over his spectacles. “And does Mr Potter have his key?”

 

Hagrid quickly patted down a number of pockets and removed a number of items including dog biscuits and a slightly crumpled letter, before pulling out the key, handing both over. The head goblin took the items, frowning slightly at the seal on the outside of the letter, which Harry only got a glimpse of. He paused for a moment before moving out from behind his station, leading the party out of the main atrium and back into the maze of corridors, until they reached a single doorway carved into the marble. He opened the door and the group followed in after him. The walls of the corridors and the room had numerous carvings etched into the marble and wood. The room was spacious with warm purple fires in basins placed around the room, they carried a hint of spice in the air. The goblin moved to his high-backed chair behind a large desk, placing the letter and key down gingerly and the rest of the group moved to sit in chairs arranged around the room.

 

"So you wish to set up an account at Gringotts?" The goblin said addressing the room, before swiftly skipping to the second order of business. "It will be easier to set it up first, before we go down into the vaults."

 

"How exactly are they set up?" Mr. Granger responded.

 

"Our bank accounts are keyed to the magical signature, regardless of the name, therefore you may have multiple accounts," The goblin began, delivering his pitch with a bone-dry tone suggesting he had made this thousands of times before. "We also offer joint accounts, best for families, which have the main chamber and side vaults for the respective family members, as the others can tell you." Sam and Professor McGonagall were nodding at his saying this, both apparently having dealt with such accounts. "We also deal with the stock market-"

 

"-and you sometimes interact with Muggle banks by proxies!" Hermione piped up, cutting the head goblin off mid-pitch. "Also, there are three different coins, each a different type of metal. There are gold Galleon, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts, and there are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, 29 Knuts in a Sickle, and 493 Knuts to a Galleon, and round the edge of each coin is a series of numerals which represent a serial number belonging to the Goblin that cast the coin. Oh, and I think the current exchange rate is £4.93 for a Galleon, £0.29 for a sickle and £0.01 for a Knut. The most used coin is the sickle."

 

She said all this very breathlessly. The room went silent. Harry stared, dumbfounded. How could anyone so young know this much about wizard banking? The head goblin peered over coldly. Hermione went pink. "I read a book about it before coming here," she mumbled.

 

"Would we need an account or should we just set up a fund for Hermione?" Mrs Granger asked, breaking the silence, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

 

"Either would suffice," Sam said, putting her hand up, "but I'd recommend setting up an account, as it will be useful to have those funds available, even if you don’t use it much. The exchange rate won't change it, so it can be good for savings and investments if you wanted to."

 

"How would that work exactly, would it be keyed to our DNA instead?" Mr Granger inquired.

 

"Dee enn ey?" The goblin asked hesitantly. Both Hagrid and Professor McGonagall also looked confused. It was quite peculiar, Harry thought, seeing someone so scholarly as McGonagall look puzzled by something as simple as DNA. Sam came to the rescue.

 

"It's a Muggle way of identification, it's similar to the magical signature and is unique to the individual. I don't think Gringotts has the capability to do that, though it would be an interesting idea." She muttered the last part to herself, before speaking up. "I think the easiest option would be to key it to Hermione's magical signature, though it will have to have a larger error percent margin as her magic is still young and growing." The goblin was nodding at her words, though still visibly annoyed that another witch was stealing his thunder.

 

"Would a small account suffice?"

 

"It would depend on how much you wanted to enter into the wizarding world."

 

"If you wish and Mr Potter does not protest, we can show you the lay out through a tour of the Potter family vaults?" The Head Goblin interrupted. "We can set up the rest of the details now and decide on the exact type of account at the end of your visit."

 

Harry looked up, confused. "I didn’t know that I had that type of vault, or vaults at all."

 

"Didn't know?" The goblin only now seemed to notice his slightly dishevelled state, the jeans quite clearly too big for him. "Have you not been read your parents' will?"

 

"No, sir."

 

"How old are you?"

 

"Eleven, sir."

 

"Of course," The goblin muttered to himself and started rooting through some papers on the desk. Finally alighting on one, he then got up and went over to the walls of the marbled room, stroking a finger down a carving. The wall opened to reveal a cupboard. Harry realise what he original thought were just carvings turned out to be cabinets and drawers fitted flush to the walls. The head goblin walked around muttering, visiting a number of different filing cabinets, and after a good couple minutes of this, where the group was watching avidly, before he finally seemed to find what he was looking for.

 

"Ah-hah, here we are," He brought a sheaf of paper over to his desk, "This makes sense, but unfortunately the Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter has been sealed. However, you are still granted access to the vault and the stipend for necessities and Hogwarts supplies whilst you are underage."

 

"Sealed? How do you mean?" Sam asked, seemingly before she could help herself.

 

"Someone gained permission to have this sealed, I do not know the particulars as they have not been mentioned. If Mr. Potter wishes to read the Will, he must either become of age or get a representative or guardian to file against the action. I do warn you, however, that such a request will take time to process, and you will need a valid reason for why it is being contested; what with him being underage, finally the person who requested the Will sealed will be informed of any action taken."

 

"Thank you for telling me," Harry said before anyone else couple respond and the goblin nodded.

 

"Right then, let's get started on the paperwork and then I'll take you to your vaults."

 

"Before we start, how is money withdrawn?"

 

"There are three main ways, either by postage correspondence; where we can purchase things for you or ready your money in advance, visiting the vault personally, or by use of a linked money bag; that will only hold a certain chosen amount at a time and can keep a record of what you spend, if you choose to, it is also keyed to your touch."

 

The conversation then moved on and Harry watched, both confused and fascinated at the following exchange of information and numbers. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, but it was interesting. Eventually the Grangers and Sam seemed satisfied and the head goblin called for a different goblin to enter into the room.

 

The goblin was younger (in that his face wasn't as lined or intimidating), with a large nose that took up most of his face. He bowed in respect to the head goblin and nodded to the rest of the room. "Welcome to Gringotts, ladies and gentlemen. I am Griphook, and I will take you to the vaults as requested."

 

The group thanked the head goblin and it was back into the labyrinth, leaving behind a slightly bewildered goblin behind them. The younger goblin led then through the many corridors and up and down stairs until they reached a pair of large double doors set into jagged stone, the white marble slowly fading into grey. Some of the carvings seemed to be pointing towards the doors, as Griphook was signalling to the goblins and wizards on guard to open and probably informing him what vaults they were visiting. Harry moved closer to Sam.

 

"Are the carvings on the walls directions?" He asked quietly.

 

Sam looked down at him sharply. "For the most part yes, there's other things, but it's all writing in their language - it's called Gobbledegook, by the way - and it's best not to ask the goblins about it unless you work in Gringotts. They guard their secrets like treasures. I can give you some books on the subject of magical creatures and their societies if you like?"

 

"Oh, yes please!" Hermione said over Harry's shoulder. He glanced over at her and could see her excitement shining in her eyes, and he smiled slightly and nodded in agreement. He shivered slightly as a cool breeze from the large carved doors opening washed over him, as they were guided through, he noticed the guards focusing their gazes on him and he turned away.

 

"We will be using these carts to traverse the many caverns the vaults are in," Griphook gestured to three joined mine carts on a rickety looking track, otherwise it will take hours to days to get to where we need to be." Harry eyed it apprehensively, as did the Grangers. But the rest of the group got on normally, even Hagrid though he did look a bit nervous taking up most of the cart. Professor McGonagall took the second cart, helping Hermione's parents into it. Sam helped Hermione into the first cart and held out a hand to Harry and he gingerly climbed in, Griphook jumped in after him and then they were off.

 

The carts were a lot faster than he thought they would be, almost like what he imagined a rollercoaster would be like (he only had photos of Dudley at Thorpe Park as a reference point). They passed through arches, waterfalls, around corners and every so often there was a place like a lay-by for the cart to stop as they made their way deeper into the earth, if only to provide a respite. A number of times they crossed by another cart, one looking particularly austere. Eventually they made their way to vault 713 as the goblin announced, "For Hogwarts business, and for demonstration of our vaults to the Granger family."

 

Hagrid climbed out first after the goblin, who was doing something to the door to make it open, Harry couldn't quite make it out. Hagrid moved into the room quickly and picked up a small parcel putting it into one of his many pockets. But before anyone could ask, the goblin started showing them around the vault and explaining some of the security precautions they had, such as the possibility of being sealed inside. Harry caught Griphook explaining how the waterfalls "are strictly for the removal of enchantments and disguises, hence why you are not currently wet from passing through them". After the small tour was over, he led them back into the carts and they slowly started ascending, the journey was shorter this time and they got out at vault number 689, the Potter family vault.

 

Griphook again got out first and Harry got out after him. The goblin seemed to stroke the door before handing Harry his key and gesturing to a small keyhole, set towards the bottom of the door. Harry put his key in the lock and twisted it, until he felt a small click, followed by a series of increasingly louder clicks as the door rumbled before moving outwards. He took a few quick steps back and the sight that greeted him was amazing. There were towers of gold and books and trinkets.

 

"Pah, no one's been in to tidy in years," Griphook mumbled, obviously disgruntled. He moved in front of Harry, stopping him and the others from entering the vault before speaking in a guttural language and waving both of his hands around, the gold and books and numerous other items started to move.

 

The vault had large arching ceilings and as things started to move, more braziers filled with the purple flames lit themselves. There was the main vault area, with a large glass storage tank for the money, extending overhead, practically blocking the view of the arched ceiling and curved towards the centre of the room, divided into three sections for the different types of coins, which were sorting themselves into their respective areas. It was like a giant vending machine that you could slide money out of in certain amounts. In the centre there were four glass tubes, the middle one leading down into the floor and the other three leading from the different tanks to the small circular wooden shelf surrounding that main tube, where withdrawals took place. "This is where you take out money, the fourth tube, is for any stocks, investments, transfers within Gringotts, or if you have a money bag." Griphook explained to the group.

 

There were two archways on either side, the right one leading to what looked like a small library, while the other seemed to be full of trinkets and heirlooms, with books and scrolls and jewellery flying to their respective locations. Set behind the main tanks, were a number of doors. "This, as you can see is a family vault, this one is set so that everyone can come into the main area of the vault, and the separate smaller vaults lead out from here. There is also the type where you can only visit the smaller vaults, this is often the case for an extended part of the family and has a different entrance. However, as Mr Potter is the only one in his line, the main vault is available, however with the Will, there is some grey areas, as the smaller vaults and other rooms, may be off limit, we are unsure." The goblin then walked over the centre of the room, inspecting his handiwork.

 

Harry was gazing around in awe. He had no idea what to do or say, but part of him never wanted to leave. He could feel Hermione buzzing next to him, gazing almost hungrily at the bookshelves. Harry smiled to himself at that. "Hermione, if you want to look at the books and things, you only have to ask."

 

"Oh, that would be wonderful!"

 

"I could probably use some help sorting all of this out."

 

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, we do not have time for all that today," Professor McGonagall interjected.

 

Harry nodded, a little disappointed but already planning for when he would have time. Instead he walked over to the centre of the chamber, there a couple of different bags on the circular wooden shelf. "Are these enchanted?" He asked of Griphook.

 

"Correct, Mr Potter. I'd recommend this one," the goblin reached forward and gestured to a black purse with multiple compartments. "The maximum that can be held in that purse is fifty Galleons, or two hundred and fifty pounds in Muggle currency. It also separates the coins into the different types, and you can request a certain amount of each type if necessary." Harry picked it up, feeling a sharp electric buzz as he did, and the purse seemed to glow briefly. "Do not be alarmed. It is simply the purse's enchantments recognising you as the owner. Only you, or someone you have given permission to, can open that purse."

 

"Thank you." Harry moved away and stopped, looking around the rest of the vault. He wanted to stay and explore, there must be information in here about his family, but… He looked over at the entryway, the others had filed out of the vault already and were waiting in the carts.

 

"Mr Potter," the goblin said quietly, "You would do well to keep them close."

 

"Who, the Grangers?"

 

Griphook turned and looked up at Harry. There was such a stern gaze from him that he shifted back slightly, "We goblins are different to wizards and witches. Our magic is similar to our cousins, we can both see things wand-bearers cannot." He paused as if puzzling out what he could say. "I would not mention this if others could hear, but the war is not over. I am sorry to tell a childling this, but you will need allies and though the Grangers are not wizarding folk of old stock, they will provide much for you." He had said "old stock" as though spitting out cherrystones. He moved forward and then paused turning around. "In the Muggle world, as in our world, things are not always what they seem. Remember that." And, as if he hadn't told an eleven year old boy new to magic and inheritance and finance that a war he was expected to affect was still brewing, the goblin walked back to the carts.

 

Harry followed numbly. He had suspected everything wasn't fine and dandy as Hagrid and McGonagall had pretended, but it hurt to think about. Why was this all on him? He was barely a baby when everything happened. Harry frowned at the weight settling on his shoulders, as he climbed into the cart, the vault door swinging shut and sealing behind him. He hardly registered most of the trip back or going outside into the fresh air, not really noticing the Grangers enthusiastically agreeing to a small family vault for now, one that could possibly be expanded. But it wasn’t until Hermione elbowed him gently in the ribs that he realised how quiet he'd been.

 

"We're going to go and buy some robes, so we can fit in a little better," She informed him as they followed the rest of the group through winding streets. "Hagrid had an errand to run, so he left earlier. Are you okay?"

 

"It was just a bit much, seeing the vault and all," Harry responded. Hermione paused for a moment, looking at him quizzically, and then she put a hand gently on his shoulder. They stood like that for a moment and Harry exhaled deeply, until he noticed the occasional odd looks they were getting. "Come on."

 

The very Victorian-looking shop they arrived at was called Madam Malkin's, and seemed to be deserted. Perhaps they had hit the shop in a lull point.

 

"Welcome my dears, how may I be of assistance today?" A tall witch asked as she walked in to the front of the store.

 

"We need Hogwarts robes, how many do you suggest?" Mrs. Granger asked.

 

"Well, first years, right? I'd recommend no more than three or four, and they will be made with additional hems so that they can be let down a couple of times."

 

Mrs. Granger nodded.  "We'd also like two sets of robes, one daytime and one occasion wear, for both myself, my husband and daughter."

 

"Of course, and your son?"

 

Mrs Granger startled for a moment, looking at Harry, who was about to say that they weren't his parents, but before he could speak. "He's not our son, we're sorry to say, but the same for him as well, please."

 

"Very well, I'll take measurements of you and then you can choose the different materials and colours for the non-Hogwarts robes. Now, the everyday robes I can finish within a couple hours, less if it’s a premade outfit, the others will take longer due to the quantity, but they can be set to your home address, free of delivery charge of course."

 

"That's fine," Mr Granger said. "Shall I get measured first?" He smiled warmly at them and followed the old witch into a back room.  Harry stared in shock, whilst Mrs Granger and her daughter were looking over some of the ready-made outfits. Why would she buy him clothes? He could afford to pay for his own now.

 

"Mrs Granger," Harry said quietly, "why did you do that?" She turned to look at him and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, there was a moment of silence whilst Hermione moved away from them and over to the other two witches and drew them into a conversation about magical garments and the pros and cons of certain types. Harry was strangely grateful, he didn't want an audience just then.

 

"Harry, I have the money and ability to do so, and so I chose to," She paused. "I know what you're thinking, that you have your own money and you're wondering what the catch is?" Harry nodded in response and the motherly figure in front of him smiled wistfully at him. "There's no catch, I simply haven't seen Hermione act this way in a long time. Make no mistake, I am not expecting your friendship, you are your own person and I would not pressure you to be friends with my daughter. It would not be a true friendship and she needs those."

 

Harry could almost hear the echoing thought that he did too, in the pause before she continued. "But even if it only lasts the day, to be able to repay that in some small way, it is something I felt I must do." She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts, "Come now, let's pick out some outfits."

 

Harry blinked as he watched the group discuss matching colours and styles. He offered suggestions where he thought he should, but he honestly didn't know what to say. He'd never really been shopping. If he was lucky, Aunt Petunia let him get things out of charity bins; if he was unlucky, it was one of Dudley's old hand-me-downs. During all of this, both Mr and Mrs Granger had come out from being measured, with Hermione being the last to enter. Sensing his confusion, Mr Granger explained how some of it worked.

 

"You see certain colours work best with skin tone, eye colour and so on. It's simply working out what works best for everyone-"

 

"Sir, how do you know this?" Harry asked.

 

The older man coughed for a moment and opened his mouth. "Daddy loves seeing how things fit together, be it cars or high fashion," Hermione interrupted, popping up next to them in a rich plum coloured set of robes. "It's your turn to be fitted now, Harry." 

 

"Thanks," He replied, heading over to the backdoor. It led to a small hall with fitting rooms, with Madam Malkin waiting for him outside of one.

 

"Excited about Hogwarts then, dear?"

 

"Oh yes, very."

 

"Nervous too, I suppose."

 

"Just a little bit, yeah."

 

Harry moved to stand on a raised platform, with a three part mirror in front of him, and watched as the witch raised her wand and made tape measures dance around him taking measurements, while a floating quill and parchment took notes. After a couple of questions about how much he'd grown over the last couple of years and one wandering tape measure that tried to measure his ears, he was done.

 

"Go on and choose your every day and dress robes then, unless you already have?"

 

"Yes, I have. I'd like a standard black formal one for dress robes, if that's alright?"

 

"That works well, did you want it to have any detailing or crest work?"

 

"Crest work?"

 

"Like your family crest, Mr Potter."

 

"My family crest?" He muttered to himself, not noticing that she'd recognised him.

 

"Yes, I believe it was a stag and stars on a field of green. Typically dress robes have the family crest and order of hierarchy, but since you are the last of the Potters, I suppose we'd give you the full crest. That's usually placed on the left hand side on the chest, where your Hogwarts crests will go."

 

"Oh, OK. Um, yeah, that sounds good."

 

"Excellent! I will research the crest then and message you regarding the design and so on. I'd recommend a silver trim by the way. Anything else, my dear?"

 

He paused for a moment, a little overwhelmed. The Dursleys didn't even have a family crest…

 

"There's a set of light and dark blue casual robes I saw back there, which I like the look of, they're pre-made."

 

Madam Malkin nodded and she flicked her wand a couple different sets flying over to them, floating in a row. Harry pointed out the ones he liked and she sent the others back. Then consulting the parchment she started to alter the clothes. It only took her a couple of minutes and Harry watched fascinated. "Here, these should do."

 

Harry followed the garment into one of the changing rooms, the robes were a light blue with a navy over cloak. He changed into them and looked in the mirror. They fit…perfectly. In Dudley's old t-shirts and jumpers, he had looked positively malnourished. With the robes, he looked healthy, like a completely different person. This was why people obsessed over clothes so much, Harry realised. They were a new start. He would get what he wanted, he would be happy, Harry vowed to throw himself into this world. He would ask to join the tutoring sessions and offer to pay half of it, which was only fair. He set his expression and left the fitting rooms, the main room was now slightly busier. He found Hermione browsing through one of the racks, but her parents were nowhere to be seen, presumably getting fitted elsewhere. He wandered over to her.

 

"Have you worked it out yet?" Harry asked.

 

"Worked out what?" She asked her brow furrowing in confusion.

 

"Why this whole thing was arranged? I know they want to break the news gently, get everyone to ingratiate themselves, but why did they choose you?" Harry paused and then realising how that sounded he started to speak, but Hermione started laughing.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, catching her breath. "It's just that I thought you'd noticed, but I wasn't sure if I could say anything. I'd been wanting to. This was all planned. They wanted the two of us to make friends, I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, I know part of the reason they chose me. My parents are Muggles, so I have no opinions on magical society or you. I'm also connected in the Muggle world and am in the process of making connections in the wizarding world. I don't know what else it could be, but I'm sure there are other reasons there." She paused. "It may just be because of availability. After all, the other Muggle-borns and half-bloods, they were already inducted."

 

"I doubt that." Harry said. He was glad he hadn't underestimated her. "So did you notice the Goblin etchings then?"

 

"Yes, there seems to be so many mysteries worth puzzling out, but I can't read Gobbledegook, it's such a complicated language! I can't wait to go to a book store. I've got far too many questions already."

 

"Do you mind telling me a bit more about Hogwarts?"

 

"Not at all. I should probably tell you about the houses."

 

"You mean like Yellow, Blue and so on?" Harry asked, "That's still a thing?"

 

"Yes, but it's taken much more seriously in magical society," She smiled and they settled into two comfy chairs that were usually for customers. "Hogwarts was established around the ninth or tenth century, somewhere in Scotland but no one knows exactly where due to all the wards and spells surrounding the estate. It was created by four mages; Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor, who each of the houses are named after. The houses compete for the house cup by earning points in class and from Quidditch tournaments. That's like flying wizard football, it's that big in these parts."

 

"So very similar to athletics day?"

 

"Yeah, only it's just a couple people from each house taking part."

 

"That seems odd."

 

"It probably isn't the only thing strange." She chuckled, "Anyway, the four houses are divided as such, Gryffindor for the brave and chivalrous, Professor McGonagall's house; Ravenclaw for the intelligent and creative, Sam's friend Ivan's house; Hufflepuff for those who value loyalty and justice; and finally Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious, Sam's house. Obviously there's more to it than that, I mean we're all parts of those things, but in different quantities. Also there tends to be familial loyalties to certain houses. 'Darker' families tend to gravitate to Slytherin, whereas 'lighter' families to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

 

"Wait, darker and lighter families? So that conflict McGonagall talked about, that really isn't over then, is it?"

 

"No." She said and Harry looked at her sharply. "No one is saying anything, but it's obvious that the stigma's still there. I seriously doubt that it is as black and white as people are making it out to be."

 

"Well, we'll find out won't we?" He said smiling at her, before trying to lighten the mood. "Which house did you want to go to?"

 

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not sure, I need to find out more about them, but I'm leaning towards Ravenclaw or perhaps," she hesitated, "Slytherin. I mean, I know I'm loyal but Hufflepuff doesn’t seem like the right fit and I'm not sure I'm brave enough to be Gryffindor."

 

"Don't be daft," Harry said bluntly. "You're plenty brave." Hermione looked taken aback by this. "But I can't see that house fitting you, I'm probably leaning towards the same, though I do like Hufflepuff for its loyalty."

 

"Slytherin is known for loyalty." A third unknown voice cut into the conversation, they both looked up sharply to see a pale boy with silver white hair and pale blue eyes. He looked like he had been carved from snow and brought to live by a sinister magical scarf. He was also trying not to blush and fidget. "Hogwarts, right? I'm also going there."

 

"Yes, we are." Hermione responded, a slight note in her voice that made Harry look over at her. She seemed bemused with something.

 

Harry looked over at the boy again and then he noticed something on the clasp of the cloak. It was a small crest with an 'M' on it, a different layout to the crest of dress robes. This, Harry pondered, must be how wizarding families identified themselves, but not everyone was wearing that type of dress, perhaps only certain families. In which case, this boy must be wealthy and also a pureblood.

 

'Pureblood'. Just the sound of it made his teeth set on edge. He'd have to think of something else to call them. "I take it you’re here to get your robes then?"

 

"Indeed. Mother's over there looking for some things whilst we wait so I can be fitted." He gestured towards a tall striking figure in autumnal colours, the patterns on her robes shifting as she moved. Harry started. She was talking to another woman in mint green and lilac robes that seemed to float around her - Mrs Granger. That must be what Hermione had been amused about. They seemed to be chatting nicely. The boy's mother even seemed to be laughing. "Ah, Madam Malkin's free, I'll see you both at Hogwarts." The boy nodded stiffly and walked away.

 

"What was that?" Harry asked, once he was sure the boy was out of earshot.

 

"I'm not sure." Hermione looked just as flummoxed as he felt.

 

"Well gang, are you ready to move on?" Mrs Granger asked as the group gathered around. "We still need to get supplies and books and wands."

 

The next couple of hours were spent exploring Diagon Alley and grabbing the supplies needed. Both of them got beautiful chests, potion sets and ingredients for reasonable prices (the Grangers were surprisingly good at haggling). Harry didn't get a chance to raise the issue until later on in the day. They'd taken a small break to have some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. Hagrid was still running errands either that or he had not caught up to them yet, Professor McGonagall had run into a friend was chatting with her at a table over.

 

The Grangers, Sam and Harry were sitting around a table, each eating an ice cream. "I would like to join the tutoring sessions, if that's alright? I know you said it is up to Hermione and I'm fine with that, but I'm gonna be looking into it on my own anyway. It would just be easier with your help. I'd pay half the fees. Honestly, I can probably handle that."

 

"I'm happy for him to join," Hermione confirmed, before her parents could ask. "I think it works and Harry needs to feel like he contributes and isn't handed the lessons." She was backing him up without needing to be asked.

 

Mr Granger moved in his seat slightly. "Well, um, I'm happy for you to join Harry, but I do need to insist, at least once, that you do not need to do this. We are perfectly happy and capable-" He stopped as his wife put her hand on his arm.

 

"You need this, don’t you? Did I go overboard earlier?" Harry shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

 

Then he lifted her head and looked her in the eyes. "Yes, you did a bit. I understand it, but I want to feel I earned this at least in some way. I don't often get to do things for myself." He added, quietly.

 

"Then it's settled then, though we reserve the right to try to change your mind." Mr. Granger said.

 

Hermione smiled over at him, her lips blue from the ice cream, though Harry doubted his were any better. The orange blast he was having was flavoursome. He snorted at the thought in his head of an eleven year old with frosted orange lips negotiating with adults, and evidently the rest of them thought the same because soon the whole table was laughing.

 

After they each finished their desserts, Sam bid them farewell, saying that she needed to draw up some contracts for everything and sort out the tutoring. "I'll let you know what happens, the first lesson with probably be this weekend at some point." She then moved into a small alleyway off to the side and disappeared with a cracking noise.

 

"What was that?"

 

"Apparition. You'll learn when you turn seventeen." Professor McGonagall informed them, "Now, let's get your wands."

 

Ollivander's was an older building that matched those around it. The windows were very dark and Harry could only catch the barest glimpse of light inside. The interior somehow felt older than the outside, with gas lamps burning softly in their sconces. The place had a slight musty feeling to it and at first it looked like a bookstore, filled with rows of bookcases and shelves upon shelves, from the floor to the ceiling. But the shelves did not have books on them, instead bearing wooden boxes of various sizes with labels written on them. As Harry and the others were exploring the store, a little old man with askew hair and wandering eyebrows moved to the front of the store.

 

"Looking for a wand?" He asked, his voice crackling a bit.

 

"Yes, Mr Ollivander," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "One for Mr Potter and another for Miss Granger."

 

"Ah yes, Minerva. Delightful to see you again," Mr Ollivander seemed to only just notice McGonagall. "What was it? Nine and a half inches, fir and dragon heartstring? Ideal wood for transfiguration and a powerful core that would not change allegiances easily or lightly. I remember the day I sold you that, you were so rambunctious." He smiled at the memory.

 

"Yes, it has served me very well all this time, just as I have done for it." McGonagall's lip curved as well.

 

Mr Ollivander turned to Harry and Hermione, both looking perplexed. "Far too many wizards and witches treat wands as nothing more than a tool. Oh, they clean them well enough when there's enough grime to be cleaned, but they forget that the wand chooses the wizard. You'll do well to remember that." He clapped his hands together. "Which is your wand-hand?" He asked the duo and for the second time today magical tape measures rose into the air.

 

"I write with my right hand if that’s what you mean?" Harry asked and the older wizard smiled. Hermione also nodded showing that she did too, and the tape measures started to measure them, in particular their shoulders, arms, hand and fingers.

 

"Good, good. Now, it will be easier if I help you one at a time. It is important you both get the right wand, for it is your lifetime companion. Who would like to go first?"

 

"Hermione would, sir," Harry said biting back a smile as she glanced at him sharply.

 

"Is that so?" The elderly wandsmith turned to look at the bushy haired girl.

 

"Yes, it is. How exactly do you choose the wands?"

 

"Oh I don't choose, Miss Granger. I merely arrange a selection and make adjustments upon what happens. The wand chooses you." He moved away and down one of the many aisles and grabbed a number of boxes, which he brought back and arranged them on a desk. Harry and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks. "Try whichever one is calling to you. If none do, just try one and I'll use the reaction to judge."

 

Harry watched as Hermione hesitated, taking a couple of deep breaths and held her hand over the wands. Nothing happened for a long moment and then her fingers twitched and she picked one of the wands, it was a pale wood with a set handle, she held it for a moment and with a nod from Ollivander, she waved it and it started to scream. Harry jumped back in shock and he saw the Grangers and Professor McGonagall cover their ears.

 

"Well, that rules this one out!" Mr Ollivander exclaimed, plucking the wand from Hermione's hand, ceasing the shriek immediately. "Definitely not that combination." He frowned and started to mutter to himself. Harry could barely hear him especially after that sound, but he thought he heard something about how unicorn hair was not an experiment worth repeating.

 

The rest of them watched as Ollivander packed up a number of the boxes and a strange thudding noise started. Harry almost didn't notice it, but he did see Ollivander freeze, his face incredulous, his already escaping eyebrows seemed to practically leave his face. The wizard turned slowly to one of the aisles and stared down the path, before jolting into movement and running down the aisle. Harry glanced over at the others wondering if they should follow.

 

"He'll be back in a moment, Potter. I know from experience that there's not that much room back there," Professor McGonagall told them, "Though I must say I've never seen him do this." And with that cryptic remark they waited for the wizard to return.

 

Ollivander walked back slowly gingerly, holding a thin box in his hands. It was rattling around as if trying to escape, and as he moved closer he practically dropped the box on the table, as sparks shot out from the partially opened box. "Well, I'll be." He breathed out for a moment, "Miss Granger, if you please." He indicated to the box.

 

Hermione tentatively reached out and fully opened the box. Inside was a pale wand with vine designs along it and no obvious handle. It was fidgeting, if wands could be described as fidgeting. The group watched as she picked the wand up. The shaking stopped and it seem to settle slightly, before multi-coloured sparks started to dance around them. "Um…Mr Ollivander?" Hermione inquired in a small voice. "What's going on?"

 

"I've only ever had this happen once, though my father told me about a time when it happened to him," the wandsmith responded. "Vine wood wands are very particular about who they choose as their masters. Very uncommon wand wood and seek out those with great vision. Sometimes they call out in magical ways to their owners. The first time I witnessed such a thing, a witch had barely walked into the shop before the wand flew into her hand. The one my father saw was more tricky, the wand started to levitate both itself and everything around it. It's ten and three-quarter inches and has dragon heartstring; a powerful and quick learning core. This is a highly unusual combination, assembling this was peculiar…" He trailed off for a moment. "But it seems to have chosen its owner. That will be six Galleons." He waved his own wand and the pile on the table floated back to where they resided. "Would you like to purchase a wand care kit as well?"

 

Hermione nodded, still staring down at the wand in shock. It had stopped spitting sparks.

 

"That is one galleon more."

 

"That's perfectly fine." Mrs Granger stated, clearing her throat and counting out the currency. Harry looked around. The Grangers weren't the only ones stunned. Professor McGonagall had turned pale and was now looking at him with a combination of anticipation and apprehension.

 

"And now you, Mr Potter."

 

Compared to Hermione's ordeal, Harry trying out wands was practically normal, though he did break a vase and caused a flying stack of papers to scatter like fireworks. He'd had so many wands plucked out of his hands before he could wave them, and was beginning to think he wouldn't find a wand. There was a cold feeling of dread in his stomach. What if there wasn't one for him? Would they refuse him at Hogwarts? He stared down at the collection of rejected wands. Why would none of them work? Could he just take a wand that wasn't perfect for now and break it in later like a horse? Harry's thoughts continued to spiral, and so he barely saw the older wizard muttering to himself and noted in the back of his head that he liked to do that. He lifted his head and watched with trepidation, ready to be told that there was no wand for him, when the ramblings increased in speed and the wand-maker moved further into the stacks of wands, occasionally pulling a wand out and shaking his head.

 

The group peered into the aisle but eventually Ollivander moved too far down the corridor of wands and was lost in the gloom. Harry eyed the table in front of him and resolutely moved over to Hermione. The adults were talking amongst themselves.

 

"What does it feel like?" He asked, unsure if it was okay to do so, but he wanted to know in case he never found his, or as Ollivander insisted, it found him.

 

"Strange, like nothing I've ever felt before. When I hold it, it feels…warm. Like curling up in front of a fireplace and surrounded by books. But there's also a sharpness there - a challenge and … I'm not making any sense," she complained, batting the question away.

 

"I'm not sure it is you. I think it has to do with the feeling of magic, I doubt everyone feels the same thing."

 

"Very true, except maybe twins, particularly identical ones. It could be an interesting area to look at."

 

Harry nodded in agreement, but he spoke before she could get into the particulars. "You guys don't have to stay, you know that right? I know you're looking forward to the bookstore."

 

"We know and I am, but I'm also looking forward to exploring it with you. Besides you were there for my wand and I want to be here for yours." She smiled at him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. It was warm and comforting and…familiar.

 

"Thank you." He mumbled.

 

Mr Ollivander finally emerged from the stacks, carrying a dust covered box. "Here, try this one, Mr Potter." He opened the case and a black wand was nestled in the velvet cushion. Harry stared at it wondering what disaster he would inadvertently cause next, and he slowly reached over and picked the wand up. He immediately felt warmth radiating up his arm, but it wasn't the warmth Hermione described. Instead, it felt like he was flying, high over every hill and river and glen, finally free from everything - free from the Dursleys, free from the war Griphook was muttering about, free from everything...he could feel the air getting warm around him as a wind gathered at his feet and a light shone around him.

 

"It appears we have a match," Mr Ollivander said, softly. "Eleven inches long, holly and phoenix feather. Curious, very curious." The wand-maker was staring at Harry as if he had suddenly grown two heads.

 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

 

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

 

Harry gulped, having a suspicion he know the answer, but he had to know. "Who owned that wand?"

 

"We do not speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter. It's not always clear why, but I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great." And with that the wand-maker moved away from Harry and walked back over to the mess of unclaimed wands.

 

Harry stared down at the wand in his hand, barely noticing Hermione standing next to him. The palpable tension was disturbed by Hagrid rapping on the window and holding a up a cage with a snowy white owl inside of it.

 

"Happy birthday 'Arry!" He called through the glass gleefully. Harry gasped in surprise. The thought of the wand was far from his mind, but the owl was a welcome distraction.

 

"It's your birthday?" Hermione asked.

 

"Yeah, the other day," He said quietly and then realising that the Grangers had heard he hurriedly told them, "But you don't need to do anything! Honestly! I mean, you already bought my robes." Harry turned back to Ollivander, hoping that the Grangers wouldn't try to do anything else. The wand-maker was wrapping up the holly wand, still muttering "curious…" under his breath, and Harry sensed that the older wizard would say no more. He paid for his wand and for a cleaning kit, and they filed out of the dark store onto the lighter street.

 

The old fashioned clocks that were dotted around all started to chime three o'clock in perfect harmony. The final errand they had was the bookstore, and they had more than enough time to spend it leisurely there. Harry suspected that the reason they finished in the book store is because they would never have gotten Hermione to leave otherwise, but even so they spent a good couple hours in there looking things up and buying books they ended up reading by the shelves. Harry fully expected that they would be there until they were politely thrown out at closing time, and indeed they were. Over the course of the day, he'd requested all of his things be sent to the Grangers - it was easier than trying to take them back to the Dursleys. All he had were Hedwig, his wand, some hidden books and his money bag. It was with a heavy heart that they left Diagon Alley, though he did enjoy the bike ride back, but he was looking forward to the weekend even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Draco seemed a bit off, but keep in mind in the first intro we have of him in the book, he's not that mean to Harry and from his POV he's seen two wizarding children in expensive robes at Madam Malkins talking about Hogwarts, also he's not got his parents or any others around him, so he doesn't have to act how they expect.
> 
> And Harry is a damn sight more observant in this, I'm just going to go with he was more observant to begin with and Gryffindor beat it out of him… Also AU.
> 
> Finally the thing in Olivander's about vine wands sometimes producing magic when their master is in a room etc, is actually cannon. Though I do not know if it is for Hermione.


	5. Chapter Four.

Hermione was used to having lecturers and teachers visiting. However, she was used to muggle tutors, not magical ones. Which was the reason she'd rearranged one of the small study rooms off from the main library numerous times, until finally it was right. She paused surveying the room; it was practically identical to how it had been when she started. Hermione groaned and slumped into one of the plush chairs, deciding that it would be better to read one of the many books that had been set for her. She started rereading the book on 'Wizarding Etiquette' she wanted to do well for her new tutor who was seemingly quite strict, not to mention it was a fascinating bunch of contradictions of what you could and couldn't do.

 

She was in one of the smaller rooms in the house, the only doorway leading into the large library, which given her families love of literature was situated in its own wing. The library was three stories high and easily the most impressive and most used room in the house. Each level had floor to ceiling bookshelves, interspersed with windows on three out of the four walls. The first floor was more open plan, with a seating area in front of a large decorative fireplace, her parents had closed it after being worried about the open flame in the library. The next two levels were balconied, in a tiered fashion, with the second having a decent floor space with two smaller seating areas, the final floor was smaller and was stuff full of bookcases, with the odd chair interspersed. It was also where Hermione spent the most of her time. There were six smaller rooms that adjoined the library, there were two on each level, branching out on both sides, the bottom two were her parents homes offices and were decorated accordingly. The top two housed the more expensive books and first editions and tended to be locked. This one was situated on the left hand side of the second floor, it had been converted into a semi-classroom. The bookshelves had continued inside the room, and there were four comfy armchairs in a circle in the centre of the room, each had a small but tall dark wooden table next to them that could be moved and used as a desk.

 

Despite her interest in the book in her lap Hermione fidgeted slightly, she was worried. She rather vehemently disliked not being able to focus on things and took pride in being able to do so in tense situations. But she was anxious about meeting a witch tutor and worried about Harry, they'd expected him to be here a while ago; which was what had started her fruitless attempts to rearrange the room. Sighing warily, she closed her book with a decided snap and put it on the table next to her, this just wouldn’t do. She'd liked Harry, he was strangely disarming and just as confused as she was at the world they'd been shoved into without a thought. Hermione had never really had friends. She'd had acquaintances and allies, but not true friends and part of her wanted that, she wanted the relationships shown in books and tv shows. But she didn’t know how to do that.

 

Growing up highly intelligent and with parents who had heavily encouraged her love of books and studying with tutors, she was well ahead of a her age group. In Maths, Science and English she'd just started her GCSE's, a good number of years early. Hermione had been highly ostracised at her private school, even disregarding the strange things that happened around her. After being bullied heinously, and a couple of incidents of what she now knew were due to accidental magic, she'd come home with bruises and ripped clothes, she'd slowly sunk into herself. Her parents being the practical people that they were, had first insisted on counselling, but she'd adamantly refused. Eventually her mother suggested the idea of Hermione taking self-defence lessons, they'd also wanted her to have a physical activity that would get her to come out of her books. She had tried most sports and they'd been a laughable disaster, and had even increased some of the bullying. Hermione did not have good hand-eye coordination. The self-defence had helped, Hermione had mostly used it to evade or escape her tormentors. Through all of the bullying and the political nature of the private school, Hermione had learned from a young age that connections and favours could keep her safe and got her what she wanted. So she'd done what any book loving genius would, she researched strategy and politics. She had been amazed when she'd gone back to school and the theories worked, the relationships between people were obvious and manipulating them was much easier than Hermione had ever thought it would be. She'd gained a reputation that people should not cross her. But it had left her with no close friends, no one she truly felt she could rely on at least. Not that she was willing to test that theory.

 

Which left her with the Harry predicament, she liked him well enough and could see that they'd been set up to know one another, she hadn't been around for the main meeting of muggleborns and muggle-raised but Harry had been. Unless they'd originally intended for him to not know anyone before he went to Hogwarts, but that seemed too cruel. It irked her that someone had used her in their plotting, she wasn’t entirely sure who it was, but she suspected Professor McGonagall had something to do with it. Shaking her head she put the thoughts to the back of her mind, she would peruse them later when she had more information. Getting up she left the room and passing through the library intent on finding her mother, if Harry didn't show soon he might not be here before Madame Marignan arrived, which would be awful. She wandered through the house, eventually finding her mother in one of the two receiving rooms. Sam had been back to go over some things and had connected the fireplace to the floo network for them, it was how she'd left and how they were expecting Madame Marignan to arrive. Which is what led to her mother was waiting in the room, they'd refused to set up a bell for it, no matter how useful it would be, as how would they explain to Albert? Hermione found her mother curled on one of the couches reading a medical journal.

 

"What is it Hermione?" She asked absently, her gaze still on the journal in front of her.

 

"Mum, I'm worried about how Harry isn't here yet."

 

 Hermione watched as her mum's faced frowned, "I'll try phone his aunt and uncle again." She got up and crossed over to the corded phone and started dialling. They'd looked up the Dursley's in the phone book. Secretly Hermione didn't think it would help, the first time her mum had called they'd hung up after she'd said Harry's name, and they hadn't answered any of the other calls. The same thing happened this time. Hermione's mother muttered to herself angrily as she set the phone back down, before turning back to Hermione, "Unfortunately, if they're not letting Harry come, there not much I can do my dear."

 

"Do you think it's because of me?"

 

"Hermione why would you say that?" Her mum asked striding over to her daughter and holding her.

 

"What if he didn't like me and doesn't want to join?"

 

"Then it is his loss."

 

Hermione was just starting to respond when the front door bell rang. Both Grangers paused for a moment before Phoebe left a card on the coffee table saying that they'd just stepped out of the room and to please take a seat, just in case their guest arrived whilst they left. It only seemed the proper thing to do. They hastened towards the front door reaching it just as Albert opened the door, they would have had him wait for Madame Marignan but what with him being unaware of magic that was impossible. He'd opened one of the doors and standing there dwarfed by the doorway was Harry. He looked paler than usual and had bags under his eyes and on one side of his face was a large purpling bruise. But he grinned when he saw Hermione and she felt her doubts crumble slightly.

 

"Mister Potter." Albert said unfalteringly not reacting to the dishevelled state of the boy and gestured for him to enter.

 

"Yes." Harry blushed and stumbled slightly as he entered into the foyer. "I got a bit lost finding the place." He was glancing around an almost terrified look on his face. Albert took the boys thin coat, which was barely enough protection for the weather. As Harry was taking in his surroundings Albert nodded to the Grangers and continued further into the house to complete his duties.

 

"How did you get here, are your aunt and uncle outside?" Phoebe asked.

 

"Um no, they uh, they left already." Harry stuttered.

 

"They didn't even check to see who we were?" Hermione looked over at her mum, she'd raised an eyebrow incredulously as if believing the boys response, but Hermione could see the tightening around her jaw as her mother took in Harry's appearance.

 

"No, they had an appointment they were late for." Harry responded finding his footing.

 

Hermione's mum hummed disapprovingly, but before she could say anything else, "Mum, shall I show Harry around?"

 

"Yes of course darling," Phoebe's eyes softening, "I'll head back to the parlour."

 

Hermione smiled at her mum, though she knew that this was not the end of it. "Brilliant, come on Harry!" She grabbed his hand and gave him a quick tour of the ground floor before showing him the library. She refrained from showing him the rest, he didn't really need to see upstairs after all. "It's been in my family for over two centuries, the estate used to be bigger, but was sold off as the decades changed."

 

"Blimey, Hermione this is all a bit…"

 

"Much?" Hermione hesitated, "I know I'm wealthy and I see how it changes how people treat me, I don't try and flaunt it but hiding and seeing people reactions afterwards, can sometimes be worse..." She repressed a shudder.

 

"I get it, but it is amazing." Surprise colouring his voice.

 

Hermione made a face at Harry, could it be… "Harry, you do realise that your parents and by default you, given their vault probably have an estate like this, or that you could easily afford one?"

 

He blanched and looked at his friend, "You mean, I could own somewhere like, like this?"

 

She almost joked about him being a Lord but seeing the expression on her friends face she led him over to one of the many seats in the library and they sat down together. "Harry?" She asked quietly.

 

"I just, I'd dreamed of having money and places like this, but now that I'm here and that I could own somewhere like this. It just hasn't sunk in. It's fine." He closed his eyes and his head flopped back into the couch cushions, "God, I must sound so common."

 

Hermione laughed at that, "You couldn't be common if you tried."

 

He shot her a confused look, and sighing she took pity on him, "Harry I know things aren't great with the Dursley's, but you're unfailing polite and you mostly hold yourself well. Besides you can be the crème de la crème and still be as uncouth as a pig."

 

Harry squinted at her, as if trying to figure out what she'd just said, "Thank you, I think?"

 

Hermione nodded, and distracted him with talk of magic and Hogwarts. Both of them needing a reprieve, they were animatedly discussing magic and what it must be like when the doors to the library opened. They stopped mid-sentence and hastily stood. Hermione's mother walked in followed by a tall woman with auburn hair with streaks of grey in it quaffed into a sophisticated up-do and wearing a lovely set of green and grey robes.

 

"Hermione, Harry, this is Madame Marignan." Phoebe said introducing them,

 

"A pleasure Madame." Hermione responded automatically, Harry echoing her a second later.

 

"A pleasure indeed, Miss Granger and Mr Potter." The woman said smiling, though her gaze had not moved from the fading bruise on Harry's cheek.

 

"Shall I show us to the study room?" Hermione suggested quickly.

 

"Yes, that will do." The woman's sharp gaze turning onto Hermione, who could see a flicker of distaste at Hermione's curls.

 

"If you need anything just use the intercom." Phoebe said heading back into her office.

 

Hermione smiled at her mum before leading the small group up one of the spiral staircases and into the study room. She moved over to her usual seat and Harry moved over to one of the others next to her. Madame Marignan looked around for a moment before taking one of the chairs opposite them.

 

"I will admit this is my first time teaching a muggleborn, it is … jarring to see no evidence of magic. Though I suppose that will change."

 

Hermione could sense the barb for what it was and if she had been anyone else they would have probably argued, which it what it looked like Harry was just about to do. Calmly she reached out and steadied him with a hand. "As jarring as it is for those who enter the Magical World for the first time." She smiled sweetly, "May we sit Madame?"

 

At first all Hermione receive was a slow blink of Madame Marignan's black eyes before the woman nodded slightly. Hermione smiled to herself but quickly hid it as her emotionless mask slid into place. She looked at the tutor as she sat perfectly poised and waited. Harry also sat down, perched on the edge of the chair as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Thankfully he seemed to get the hint to not say anything and tried to mimic Hermione's posture. They sat there for a number of minutes, the only sound coming from the clock in the room as time passed by.

 

"Very well." Madame Marignan said her demeanour defrosting slightly. "This first session will be to introduce you to basic information about the Magical World, it is something that most purebloods know since childhood. After we have covered the basics we will work on your posture and presentation. I understand that you want a good framework for when you start Hogwarts. We will tailor the lessons more to what you will need depending on your houses and so on. Rather than the more general approach I usually take, though I will be setting homework and we will meet at least three times a week." Hermione could see Harry flinch slightly at the number of lessons there would be. "Know this, if you miss a lesson or do not complete the homework without a valid reason you will be hard pressed to invite me back. However, I am not unkind, you each get three chances. Any questions?"

 

"No Madame." Hermione responded though she did want to ask what house the woman thought she would be sorted into.

 

"No Madame." Harry echoed her again, he fidgeted slightly as he did so.

 

"Let us begin then." Hermione saw Harry start to relax but he caught himself, noticing how neither Hermione or Madame Marignan had relaxed their postures. Grimacing slightly he sat up straight. Pretending as if she had not noticed the slip the tutor continued on, "I will assume that you have very basic knowledge of the Magical World, mostly that which is available in your course books and the like. Which of you can tell me what magic is?"

 

Hermione froze, she knew little about this, but something niggled at the back of her mind, so she responded, "No one knows exactly, Madame."

 

"Correct. We do not know what magic is or how it came to be, it is a semi-sentient force that we can tap into. There are two types of magic; inherent magic and external magic. The former is the power that you hold inside yourself that can be used and drained, the second is the magic around us in the world and can be tapped into and used in rituals. Which is why the phases of the year are an important part of the Magical society, most are pagan."

 

"Pagan?" Harry and Hermione blurted, there'd been little reference to that in any of their books.

 

"Yes, I am well aware of how muggle society has and does treat pagans."

 

"Madame, why does the Hogwarts letter talk about Christmas then?" Harry asked, almost absently.

 

Madame Marignan looked over at the boy, "Because of muggles."

 

Harry nodded, "In the past, you wouldn't want them to see something promoting Pagan rituals."

 

"Yes." She said her gaze still on Harry she continued, "The Wheel of the Year is the annual cycle of seasonal festivals, it consists of eight festivals, known as the Quarter Days. The eight solstices and equinoxes are as follows: Midwinter also known as Yule, Imbolc, Ostara the Vernal Equinox, Beltane, Litha which is Midsummer, Lammas, Mabon the Autumnal equinox, and Samhain. I will go into greater detail on each festival at a later date. The reason for each festival is due to external magic, as it goes through phases throughout the year, such as when the world is darker or lighter. Which means that to perform certain spells you have to wait for a certain time of year. This is done on a smaller scale with the phases of the moon."

 

"Madame does that mean magic is tidally locked?" Hermione asked, one of her many questions finally bubbling to the surface.

 

"I do not know what you mean by that Miss Granger." Hermione frowned in response, before catching herself and explaining, after a moment Madame Marignan responded, "Yes, I suppose you could look at it that way, though it is an interesting thought." The woman looked slightly green at the prospect, before reasserting her mask, "Now, that is a very brief summation of external magic. On the other hand inherent magic is the natural amount of magic that you hold, it is what you use when casting spells."

 

"Madame, is there a reason it is called inherent rather than internal?"

 

"Yes, inherent gives a sense of constancy." She continued after seeing Hermione about to ask another question, "The main reason is that when you use the external magic, it becomes internal magic, this is furthered by there being certain ways to strengthen your magic. Now as I was saying there are certain levels to your magical ability, it is a scale that was created centuries ago…"

 

Hermione sat with rapt attention throughout the rest of the lesson, though both she and Harry fidgeted a number of times but he too seemed entranced. They both asked numerous questions, starting to grown more comfortable in the environment. Some of Harry's had not occurred to her, at least not in the way they had to him. The topic was fascinating and it was nice to have someone else there for a tutoring session, if strange to begin with. And after the slow start it ended far too soon.

 

"You will read the first couple of chapters on general interactions, I want you to memorised the phrasings as we will be practising them in the next session." Madame Marignan informed them as she drew the lesson to a close. "I will see you in two days' time." She then rose and Hermione quickly stood up after her and led her to the parlour she could floo from. Harry trailed along behind them, a slightly glassy look in his eyes.

 

"It was indeed a pleasure, Miss Granger, Mr Potter. I look forward to our next lesson. Miss Granger, my regards to your parents." The French witch smiled slightly before taking a pinch of floo powder and tossing it into the flames, calling out her destination and stepping through the green flames.

 

Harry and Hermione stared at the fireplace amazed at the display, Harry having never seen it before and Hermione only once before. "That's so cool." Harry breathed as the flames died down.

 

"Yes, it is." Hermione said, agreeing wholeheartedly and stretching the kinks out of her back.

 

Harry also stretched, whilst asking, "What was that about at the start?"

 

"It was a test of poise and patience, also Madame Marignan wanted to see how we'd respond to subtle barbs, or if we’d even notice them."

 

"It was strange but I thought it might be some kind of test, though she seemed to like us towards the end." He said brightening, then a frown crossed his face, "Unless that too was a test."

 

Hermione shook her head fondly at her friend. "It was and it wasn't, I suspect most things will be like that with Madame Marignan." She led him out of the parlour, and towards the kitchen, intent on finding a snack. "She was pleased with us, the comment about my parents in particular showed that, otherwise she wouldn't have mentioned them at all. Or worse she would have refused them comment." Hermione frowned a bit at the thought, she was analysing everything that had happened, careful to consider any mistakes she had made. They couldn't afford them.

 

"Refuse comment?" Harry asked slightly confused. Hermione sighed as they neared the kitchen, "Remind me to introduce you to Jane Austin, it will probably clear up a few things," She entered the kitchen Harry trailing after her as she headed over to the fruit bowl and grabbed two prewashed apples, cutting them up and placing them in small bowls for them. "Now," She said looking over at Harry as they started to eat, "Was there anything you wanted to go over?" She didn't like doing peoples work for them but this, going over something she could do, to her surprise, Harry seemed excited and launched into a question.

 

"How can something be semi-sentient?"

 

"I'm honestly not sure." Hermione said having a bit of apple, it was impossible for her to know everything after all.

 

"The different levels of magic were interesting, Madame Marignan and Professor McGonagall are Sorceresses aren't they?" He chewed thoughtfully, "Though I'm not sure I completely understand the types of magic; active and defensive and all that?"

 

"Yes they are, I wonder what level we'll end up being…" There was a brief pause, each of them contemplating the idea that they could be like the witches they'd met. Before Hermione spoke up, moving onto Harry's other question, "I have to admit it seems strange to quantify it like that, I think they're more literally descriptive, at least aggressive and defensive seem to be. Active magic means you're constantly focusing on your magic, passive is when you're not continually using it." Hermione shook her head, she wasn't sure how to explain it.

 

"That seems a bit useless?"

 

"Yes it does, I wonder if it's more complicated than that." She trailed off.

 

"Well we can either ask Madame Marignan or we can hunt down the answers when we get to Hogwarts."

 

"Just think of the library, it has to be massive!"

 

"I'm thinking forget Houses, you'll probably move in there." He snarked back and Hermione felt a flash of surprise before smiling and retorting in kind.

 

"I'm starting to think you would to."

 

They finished eating and continued talking as they headed back to the library, they curled up in their respective seats in the study room, going over the lesson, and homework. The topics changed freely and Hermione felt strange, almost giddy, was this what friendship is like? A small part of her wondered how long it would last after they reached Hogwarts. A slightly bigger part of her was even more worried about Harry, something was not right in his home. She contemplated the issue as they spoke of so many different topics, and time passed quickly, they barely noticed as an hour, then two passed.

 

"Is that the time?" Harry asked staring at the clock dumfounded, "I need to get going."

 

"Do you want us to phone your family? They probably should have been here by now."

 

"No, no. It's fine, I said I'd meet them." Harry responded too quickly, whilst packing away his things. "Thanks for this Hermione." He then dashed out of the room and down the stairs, Hermione half jogging to keep up with the fast boy. She skidded on the marble floor of the entryway as they reached it. Albert was already there, taking the coat from Hermione's father.

 

"Ah, Harry. I didn't think I'd get the chance to see you." He smiled warmly. "Or are you just heading off?"

 

"Uh, yes." He said stumbling to a stop, Hermione nearly falling behind him grabbing onto his arm to steady herself. She felt him flinch under the contact.

 

"Strange, I didn't see your family outside." He glanced over to Albert.

 

"There is no one waiting for Mr Potter outside."

 

"They wouldn't be, I said I'd meet them." Harry said, "So I think I'll just, head out."

 

"Nonsense, do you think I'm going to send someone in my care out alone, when starting to get dark?" Michael started to put his coat back on.

 

"Shall I fetch the madam, sir?"

 

"There's no need Albert, I'm already here." Phoebe said striding into the hallway, "Though if you would get my green coat." She smiled at Harry and Hermione could feel him shaking under her grip, quickly she let go, she'd not realised that she still had hold of him and Hermione had noticed how he tended to shy away from touch…

 

"Where were you meeting your aunt and uncle then?" Michael asked as his wife put on her coat.

 

Hermione watched as Harry stared up at her parents, fear plain across his face as he tried stammering out an excuse. Hermione wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, but she wasn't sure how to do that or if physical contact would be allowed. A tense silence passed, in which the elder Granger's exchanged glances. Finally Harry broke it, "I wasn't going to meet my aunt and uncle, I travelled here on my own." He raised his head, staring defiantly back, "I can travel back the same way."

 

Hermione spoke before her parents could said anything, she knew that whatever they said would not be the right thing for Harry to hear right now, no matter how sound or logical it may be, purely because it was coming from an adult. "Harry, Harry, look at me." She resisted the urge to reach out, "My parents are not the type to let someone in their care find their own way home, they will give you a lift instead. Besides, it would take at least three busses or two trains for you to get there."

 

"I couldn-."

 

"Harry," She interrupted, "We are taking you home." Harry looked at her and nodded stiffly. She smiled at him and he gave a tight grimace back.

 

She looked over to see her parents arching eyebrows and tried not to laugh, as they tried to look like they hadn't been focusing on them. She glanced over as Albert held out their coats and the duo quickly put them on, before following her parents out to the car. The hour or so drive was tense to begin with and Hermione slowly drew Harry out of his shell towards the middle of it, but the closer they got to Little Winging, the more sombre he became. The suburb had an almost idyllically normal feel to it.

 

They pulled up outside number four, with a silver car in the driveway and what seemed to be evidence of bird droppings everywhere. The Grangers were slightly puzzled as they stopped the car. There were lights on in the house, coming from what must had been the lounge.

 

"I'll just get out here, thank you for the lift." Harry said, but as one the Grangers all looked at him before pointedly getting out of the car. Hermione shot Harry a consoling look as he groaned, but she joined her parents outside the house. A minute or so later Harry joined them as well.

 

They locked the car and strode up to the front doorway, Michael Granger leading the way, he rang the doorbell and they patiently waited outside. Hermione took in the house, it was a typical house on a cul-de-sac, it was in good condition but there were far too many lace curtains for her taste. One of them shifted in the lounge, as if someone was looking out at them. A couple houses down a dog barked. Then just as Michael was lifting his hand to ring the doorbell again a gruff voice called out, "We don't want any solicitations, or witnesses, go away!"

 

Hermione's parents exchanged incredulous looks and Harry paled at the voice. She moved closer to him, though was careful not to touch him, and if the movement made it so she hid him even more from view, then that was just a bonus. "We're not solicitors or witnesses, we're Hermione Granger's parents, we have your nephew with us. We gave him a lift home." Michael responded politely.

 

Slowly the sound of a deadbolt being undone reached them and the door opened, revealing a large man with a walrus moustache. "What’s he done now?" Vernon Dursley asked, his face ruddy and his beady eyes taking in the details of the Grangers and their car, "Has he damaged or stolen something," He caught sight of Harry, "You, boy, what have you done now?" The walrus of a man stepped forward, anger shaking his substantial girth. Hermione almost stiffened at Harry moving slightly behind her, his arm touching hers. But she pressed against the small contact.

 

"Your nephew has done nothing of the sort, we'd invited him over." Phoebe said, her face a genteel mask and her voice saccharine sweet, "When we found out he'd travelled there on his own we gave him a lift, now may we come in, it does not do to entertain on the doorstep after all."

 

Vernon paused, seeming to take in the situation and if the circumstances had been any different, Hermione would have laughed at the very obvious thought of, what the neighbours must be thinking flashed across the large man's face. Eventually he nodded and moved out of the doorway, they filed into the house and headed down the hallway, passing by a staircase with a cupboard under it. Hermione's eyes glinted as she caught sight of the lock on the outside. For a moment she saw red and was jostled as the large man pushed passed her, following after her parents who hadn't notice the cupboard, what with it being at a much lower height to them. She felt an arm pulling her back, "Hermione, don't." Harry whispered, almost begging.

 

She stared at him for a long moment, "I won't say anything for now, but you are coming back with us." She told him, not commenting when the pure relief flashed across his face. The two children then followed the rest of the adults into the open plan kitchen and living room. A giraffe of a woman was standing partially in front of another boy as if to shield him, but he was nearly three times her width so it was not doing much.

 

"Good evening, we're Michael and Phoebe Granger, Hermione's parents." Michael stated his smile all teeth, "We phoned the other day but you seem to be having problems with the line."

 

"You've dropped off the boy, now please leave." Vernon said gruffly as he moved to stand over by his family.

 

"Now that is hardly a proper way to treat guests." Phoebe responded, "How about offering us a drink, after all we did drive over an hour to return your nephew to you. No?" Affecting disappointment, Hermione's mother continued, "What is it exactly that you do, Mr Dursley?"

 

"I work for Grunnings."

 

"What does that deal with?" Michael asked, nonplussed.

 

"Drills." Was Vernon's clipped reply.

 

"Ah, how… fascinating."

 

"Yes, the place is quaint," Hermione's mother responded looking around, "Harry here has been a delight to have, he's been invited again, in fact we would like him to come over a couple times a week as the tutor has insisted."

 

"T - t - tutor!" Petunia half gasped.

 

"Yes, we got Hermione a magical tutor and have invited Harry to join her." Phoebe responded, the gracious smile belying the hard tone of her voice.

 

"We don't want any of you lot here. HE'LL NOT BE GOING!" Vernon positively roared, his anger overtaking him, flecks of spittle left his mouth and splattered down his chest.

 

"I assure you he will be." Michael commanded, all trace of kindness gone, leaving only derision.

 

"In fact, he'll be staying with us for the rest of the holiday." Hermione spoke up calmly. "Come on Harry, let's get you things." She gently tugged at his sleeve and they headed out the room and upstairs to one of the smaller bedrooms, this too had locks on the outside, as soon as they entered the room Harry broke out of his daze and quickly grabbed his things taking a pillowcase from the bed and dumping it in there, it was barely full when he was done.

 

"Hermione, your parents are terrifying, amazing but terrifying."

 

 "Yes, they are." Hermione had only ever seen them this angry once before when… No, don't think about that. Casting around she looking at the broken tv's and toys and asked, "What is all that?"

 

"Stuff Dudley won't let them get rid of." Harry told her, he seemed to want to laugh at the look that must have gone across her face.

 

"That is ridiculous. Where are your school things?"

 

"In the cupboard under the stairs."

 

With that they left the room. Hermione paused at the top of the landing, it had only been a couple of minutes after all. "Which room is Dudleys?"

 

"That one, why?" But Hermione was already walking over to it, she grimaced at the thought of touching the handle but opened the door to a room that was spotless. Hermione didn't have to think who had cleaned it. She stepped into the room, it was decently decorated and was stuffed full of Dudley's things. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, Harry stood in the doorway keeping an eye out. "Hermione," He whispered, "What are you doing?"

 

Hermione just smiled at him, exploring the room, she wasn't careful and probably broke a lot of things, though on the surface it would look perfectly fine, then she found what she was looking for. When she was younger and had to deal with bullies, she'd figured out a little trick she could do with her magic, she smiled viciously and concentrated for a moment. She felt something shift and then she nodded to herself, grinning at Harry she moved over him. They heard someone coming up the stairs, Dudley.

 

"They want you downstairs." The large boy said, skirting past them to his room. He froze in the open doorway and his large cheeks flushed with red, the image of his father's face, he slowly turned to look at them, "What did you do?"

 

"You'll just have to find out." Hermione smiled sweetly at him, discretely making Harry head down the steps before her. The annoyance of a boy stomped over, he towered over her in height and girth, for a moment Hermione was highly aware of the stairs behind her, but she didn't let it show on her face. "Did you want something?" She asked calmly, glad Harry was near the bottom of the stairs. She could see a vein starting to bulge on Dudley's forehead, and he raised a meaty fist. And then he swung.

 

The throw was wide but quicker than she expected, the only thing that saved her was her quick reflexes, mentally thanking her parents for the self-defence lessons and also noting that she should probably pick them back up again. She swung under his arm and used both her movement and his momentum against him, with a blow to his stomach that had the boy keeled over and wheezing. She quickly stepped away, moving down the stairs. Harry was down at the bottom and she turned to look back at his cousin. Quietly, so that Harry couldn't hear her, she whispered that if he ever lay a hand on Harry again she would see him beaten to the point of paralysis. "Did you know," She breathed softly, "There a couple types of paralysis where you still feel pain?" She knew that sometimes the threat of something was worse that actually doing it. People were never sure whether to believe them.

 

She then headed down the stairs, leaving the dreadful boy there. Harry was staring at her with an amazed look on his face. She mentally added another note, Harry needed training too. "Let's get in there before they wonder where we are." He said, but his face was questioning, he wanted to know what she had said. Suddenly tired, Hermione shook her head and then mouthed later to him.

 

They walked back into a very different scene from earlier; the Dursleys were staring almost despondently at Hermione's parents, all fight had left them. "We have the things from Harry's room, but some of it is locked in the cupboard under the stairs."

 

"Where's the key?" Phoebe asked, a shaking Vernon pulled a key from the breast pocket of his shirt. Michael took it off of him and the Granger's plus Harry left the room. They opened the cupboard to find the books that Harry had unsuccessfully tried to hide, his money pouch and a number of other things which they collected. Only Hermione was small enough to notice the child's drawings hidden away.

 

They quickly left, but the drive back was even more tense. Hermione couldn't focus on that, she was too busy trying to figure out how Harry felt safe enough with them that he'd fallen asleep, his head resting on her shoulder. Hermione smiled to herself and rested her head on top of Harrys. She could hear her mum phoning ahead for Albert to set up the rooms opposite Hermione's.

 

The car ride was much quicker at this time of night, Hermione gently roused Harry as they reached the Granger House, Harry blinked, looking around blearily. Before clambering out of the car. Michael and Albert carried the smattering of Harry's things to his rooms, the two children following quietly. The rooms were tastefully decorated, a small sitting area, a bedroom with en-suite and a walk in wardrobe, they mirrored Hermione's own room. They placed Harry's things in the sitting room, the trunk he'd sent to their home from Diagon Alley already sitting in there. Harry seemed to be confused by the room and Hermione gently pointed out the bedroom for him. He nodded and stumbled over to the bed.

 

Hermione frowned, but she filed out of the room after her father and butler. She bade them goodnight and headed into her own rooms. She moved straight to the bathroom and splashed water on her face a couple of times. Her reflection looked tired, almost as tired as Harry seemed to be. But there was a hint of victory there, Harry was staying here for the rest of summer. Smiling at the thought of her friend, she quickly got ready for bed.

 

The rest of summer past way too quickly for the duo, it was a mix of Magical Society lessons, self-defence and general enjoyment. The Grangers made sure that they didn’t spend the whole time indoors, there were a number of day trips to see sights, shopping trips and to the cinema.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment, next time, Hogwarts!
> 
> Also, no that is not Harry's predicament solved, not by a long shot. Not to mention Hermione's parents have no knowledge of the cupboard or his room upstairs. They were simply astounded by how they had been treated and when Hermione said he was joining them and no one, in particular Harry disagreed, they supported her.


	6. Chapter Five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, sorry for the wait. Here's the sorting! This chapter is a bit shorten than my others but I wasn't sure how to lengthen it without changing POV, I may come back and edit it later.

Harry couldn't remember a time when he was happier than the month he spent at the Grangers. It passed way to quickly in a blur of lessons, good food and trips out. He was immensely grateful for what they'd done for him and to Hermione for keeping her word. She had not mentioned the cupboard to her parents, even though it must have been terribly hard. He also liked how she was perfectly content to give him his space, without needing to speak about it. Most people took personal contact for granted and expected people to initiate it, or respond in kind. But Harry had never really touched that many people and he wasn't used to it... He skirted away from those thoughts, trying to stop the memories, they brought with them. Instead he focused on completing his packing, making sure he had all of the things he needed. They were leaving for the station soon, heading through the floo network, which Harry was nervous about. He finished checking his trunk, finding nothing missing he closed and locked it. He pulled it across the floor, straining as he did so. Panting Harry opened the door to a reveal Albert, his hand raised to knock.

"Mister Potter, I was sent to help you with your things, I trust you are packed?"

 "Err, yes, I'm packed." Harry responded, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the Granger's butler and had spent most of his time there avoiding him.

 The thin man nodded to him and moved past him, taking hold of Harry's trunk he effortlessly picked it up and walked out into the hallway, turning to head towards the stairs. Harry stared after him dumbfounded before hurrying to follow. The man's stride were almost too quick for Harry to keep up with, even with the heavy case . "Did you want a hand, carrying it downstairs?"

 "I will be fine. Thank you sir." The butler responded and with practised ease he carried the trunk downstairs and headed towards one of the greeting parlours. Harry trailed after him. The doors to the room were open and Albert placed Harry's trunk down next to Hermione's. Hedwig was already in her cage on an end table. "Will there be anything else?" The man asked the Grangers who were already sitting in the room, they were dressed as magical folk. Both he and Hermione were already in their school uniform.

 "No, that's all, thank you Albert." Phoebe said warmly and the man nodded before leaving, closing the door behind him.

 "Sorry if I'm late?" Harry said, his voice lilting at the end, making it into a question.

 "You're hardly late Harry, we're just early." Michael said kindly, "Shall we then?" He walked over to the fireplace and took a pinch of the powder in a bowl next to it. He threw it in the smouldering fireplace and called out, "Platform 9 3/4's." The green flames shot up and with a smile and wink, he grabbed Hermione's trunk and stepped through the flames.

 Harry watched as Hermione went next, her hands were shaking and she grabbed more powder than was probably needed, but her voice was clear, and then she too disappeared. Phoebe gestured for him to go next. He nodded and picked up Hedwig's cage, the bird rustling about at the movement. He took half a handful of powder and stepped into the flames. Praying that he didn't mess up, he shakily called out, "P- platform 9 3/4…" And the Granger's parlour vanished from his eyes in a wave of green flames. The ride was not pleasant as the flames danced around him and fireplaces passed by.

 Until Harry came to a stumbling halt. Clumsily exiting the fireplace on the other side, only been saved from going sprawling by Michael's quick reflexes. As Harry slowly got his bearings he saw Phoebe coming out of the fireplace after him, his trunk in hand. They were on a platform that had no discernible entrances of exits, aside from the train tracks and there was an old-fashioned black steam train waiting in the station. The platform was busy, full of students and parents.

 "I was wrong earlier. That was exhilarating." Harry exclaimed to Hermione as his breath returned to normal. Hermione just raised an eyebrow at him, she looked a little green around the edges.

 "I guess this is where we see you off then. We'll miss you both so much." Phoebe said, pulling both Hermione and him in for a hug. Harry almost balked at the contact but the hug was warm and comforting. Michael had joined in too.

 "You both had better write to us, at least once a week." Michael said, extracting a further promise from them, both parents were dusting the soot off each of the children, "Take of each other, learn things, but don't forget to have fun." He smiled at them, before holding his hand out to his wife and then headed back through the floo. They had to get back to an important meeting, otherwise Harry had no doubt that they would have waited until the train pulled out of the station to say goodbye to their daughter.

 "Shall we go find a compartment then?" Hermione asked, grabbing hold of her trunk.

  "Yes, lets." He grabbed hold of his case, still holding onto Hedwig's cage in the other and they worked their way through the crowd onto the train itself. They struggled getting the trunks on board but managed it. They hurried along the corridors, ducking under people and letting others doge around them. Harry quickly found an empty compartment, it was near the middle of the train and they pulled their cases inside. It took both of them taking turns to lift two trunks up to the racks above.

 Harry collapsed onto one of the cushioned seats as Hermione shut the door. She then removed two books from her satchel, holding one out to Harry. He rolled his eyes at her fondly, but took the book. It was one of the many magical books Hermione had amassed, the one he'd been halfway through. He smiled to himself, and curled up with the book, setting in to read for a little while.

 Just as he was getting engrossed in where he'd left off the door to the cabin opened, revealing a taller boy with red hair and a freckled face. He also had a large dirt mark on his nose. "Do you mind, if I join you here, everywhere else is full."

 Harry glanced over at Hermione, she was looking the newcomer over, her face perfectly neutral. But she'd raised an eyebrow at his words, how could the whole train be full? She sent him a quick look as if to say, your choice before turning back to her book. "Sure." Harry said, before also turning back to his book. He didn't know what to say.

 "I'm Ron Weasley. Nice meeting you. Thanks for that." The boy said plopping himself down next to Harry, far too close for comfort.

 "That's Hermione Granger and I'm Harry Potter." Harry responded and immediately regretted it.

 Ron had turned pale and started talking at him a mile a minute, gesturing wildly, "The Harry Potter?! Do you really have the scar?" He tried to half whisper but it came out like more of a shout.

 "Yes." Harry responded quietly, inwardly he groaned, was this what most people would be like when he met them. Would any of them actually care about just him? Harry jumped at the hand the boy had none too gently placed on his shoulder.

 "Let's see it then." The boy beamed at him.

 "For goodness sake, I'm trying to read here." Hermione snapped, jarring Harry from staring at the stranger's hand on his arm. He looked over to see her looking angrily at Ron.

 "Who are you?" Ron asked rudely.

 "Hermione Granger, Harry just introduced us, which you'd know if you'd been paying attention. Now, will you kindly sit still and be quiet or find a new cabin; I am trying to read." Hermione said, her eyes steely.

 Ron snorted and turned back to Harry, "How about we get out of here and we can explore the train?" Harry froze, did the boy really think that he'd would join him, particularly when he knew the reactions he was likely to get from people.

 "I'm fine thanks." Harry said, picking up his book from where the boy had absently knocked it to the floor in his wild gestations earlier.

 "You're wanting to spend the whole journey reading?!" Ron almost yelped.

 "Is there something wrong with that?" Hermione asked lightly.

 "Erm, no. Of course not." Ron said slowly, as if he wasn't too sure on what he was saying.

 The door to their compartment slid open again and Harry groaned inwardly. He exchanged a sympathetic look with Hermione and he placed his book on the seat, away from Ron. This time the doorway revealed three people, two large hulking brutes who looked like they were at least third years if not for the fact they didn't have House colours. They were flanking a smaller peroxide blonde boy. Who, Harry with a start recognised from Madam Malkin's.

 "I hear Harry Potter's on the train." The boy drawled, his countenance rather different from the last time he and Hermione had seen him.

 "My, word travels quickly. Or perhaps just loudly." Hermione responded, the dig directed at Ron. Before she finally closed her book, "I'm Hermione Granger," She introduced herself to the boy, "These are Harry Potter and," after pausing for a moment as to whether to include the other boy, "Ron Weasley."

 "I'm Draco Malfoy, these are Crabbe and Goyle."

 Ron scoffed at the boy, "Figures you'd come here trying to get to Harry." Harry looked incredulously at the boy he'd just met, acting as if he was defending him.

 Draco blinked at Ron, as if he'd had more interesting things on the bottom of his shoe, "I came to introduce myself. But I seem to be too late," He looked over at Harry, "I'd be more careful about who you chose to associate with." He moved to leave the cabin.

 When Hermione started to laugh, the boy paused glancing over at her. "Why are you laughing?"

 "Simply because Harry and I have only just met both of you." She smiled sweetly at the boy, "You should not be so quick to judgement."

 "You dare! I'm a Malfoy, I deserve respect."

 Hermione stood, moving so she was directly in front of the boy. "And I'm a Granger. My respect will be given, when it has been earned." For a tense moment no one spoke as the two stared at one another. It was Hermione who broke the silence, "Greetings to you scion Malfoy, may our next meetings be as eventful."

 Draco smirked in response, "Greetings Granger, may the time between pass quickly." He then turned to leave, nodding towards Harry and ignoring Ron.

 As soon as the door closed and their footsteps faded away, the red head exploded, "What on Earth did you do that for?"

 "You mean, prevent an argument?" Hermione asked innocently.

 "The bloody idiot was leaving already, there was no reason to be nice to him."

 "No, there was no reason to be nice to the boy who came in and talked to us as if we were people, rather than the boy who barged in, ignoring our personal space and what we were doing." Hermione responded sarcastically.

 "You're mental. The Malfoy's are as Dark as they come, they supported You-Know-Who!"

 "Voldemort." Harry corrected almost automatically, the boy finally flinching away from him as he did.

 Hermione snorted at his reaction, "Now, can we get back to reading?" She said picking up her book.

 Harry started to do the same when Ron grabbed onto him again, "Look," Harry said before the boy could start talking, finally reaching the point where he needed to say something, "Stop touching me and let me read in peace." He shrugged out of the boys hold and Ron looked stunned at Harry's response. The red head finally settled back onto his part of the seat, fidgeting and making noise as he did so. Harry wanted nothing more than to thunk his head against the window of the train. When the cabin open again.

 "Anything from the trolley dears?" An older woman's voice called out, and Harry sighed in relief.

 He looked over curiously at the magical assortment of treats. "Two of everything please." He asked, passing half of it to Hermione who looked surprised but happy. Ron just stared forlornly at the trolley and the sweets they'd bought before shaking his head.

 They finally settled into read, the silence only broken by Ron's fidgeting and a boy called Neville trying to find his toad. The latter of whom joined them an hour or so later, with no toad but a book on Herbology, he quietly sat next to Hermione. Harry enjoyed the rest of the journey, aside from the occasional noises coming from the now sullen red head, they spent most of it reading and talking about Hogwarts.

 Eventually they pulled up to the station, a prefect coming by to check they'd changed and saying to leave their luggage there, as it would be taken up to the castle separately. The group of four slowly filed out, occasionally being jostled by the students as they all made their way to the platform. Harry wasn't entirely sure where to go when a large booming voice called out for the first years. He exchanged grins with Hermione and they cut their way over to Hagrid.

 "Hello Hagrid." They chorused as they grew closer, Neville and Ron trailing after them.

 "'arry, 'ermione! Good to see you both!" The half-giant rumbled and then continued to draw the first years over to the small group.

 The rest of the crowd thinned as the older students headed out of the station, soon all that was left was the group of first years huddled around Hagrid. He smiled jovially at them and lead them down a twisting path to a small dock full of boats. "No more than four to a boat!" He called out as the students slowly climbed inside.

 The four of them ended up in a boat together, Harry just managing to catch Neville before he either fell out or capsized the boat itself. Harry wasn't too sure what Hermione would do to the poor boy if he caused her to be soaking wet throughout the sorting ceremony; it was hardly likely to show sophistication. The lake was lovely and the view from it up at the castle was glorious, one of the most magnificent views he'd ever seen, he could see why they chose to transport the first years this way. They reached the docks on the other side, it took a good number of moments for everyone to climb out, but Neville found his toad in the chaos, so some good came of it.

 Most of the first years, he and Hermione included had drifted away from the boats, not wanting to risk falling into the cold water. Harry looked around, they seemed to be in the foundations of the castle itself, the walls were an odd mismatch of rough rock and carved stone. There was a large rough stair case and a number of branching tunnels, he became determined to explore them at some point. Hagrid started to lead them up the many flights of stairs to the castle itself, and everyone bar the half-giant was out of breath by the time they'd made it to the top.

 They were greeted by the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. While you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts, your classes and quarters will be with your House. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points." She gaze was steely as it passed over the gaggle of first years, and a number of the group shifted under her gaze, "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. I will return when we are ready for you."

 Harry glanced around the anti-chamber, interested in the first room of Hogwarts he'd actually seen, but it was quite bare. He could hear the other students discussed how they'd be sorted in the background, so he was one of the first to notice the ghosts, nudging Hermione so she wouldn’t be startled. She looked at him quizzically, confused at why he had done that, before following his gesture, an amazed look overtaking her face, and then someone screamed. Harry jumped at the sound, which seemed to have come from Ron. He bit back a grin at how red the boy had gone. Everyone else had freaked out at the shrill sound and the unexpected sight of around 10 ghosts; it was impossible to count them all what with them being translucent and moving constantly. The ghost floated around, mostly nonplussed, though a couple looked rather put out at the reaction they'd garnered. A number of them started waxing poetically about certain houses, the new students responded eagerly.

 "We are ready for you." Professor McGonagall's voice broke through the excited chatter.

   The new students filed through the doors into the great hall, the whole student body turning to look at them, Harry distracted himself by looking at the enchanted ceiling, deciding it was a much better thing to focus on than people's eyes. The walk towards the head of the room was painful but the group made it there without anyone, even Neville tripping up. There was a small dais sitting in front of the teachers table, a three legged stool was in the centre with a pointed hat sitting on top. And then it broke into song.

 After it had finished, Professor McGonagall explained, "Now, when I call your name, you'll come forward, place the hat on your head and it will announce your House, you will then join your Housemates at their respective tables." She unfurled a length of parchment and slowly when through the names alphabetically. Nervous Harry blocked out most of the sorting until a name he recognised jolted him from his thoughts. "Hermione Granger." The woman called and Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze, before gently pushing her forward.

 Steeling herself the bushy haired girl walked forward, sat down and placed the hat on her head. And there was silence. For a number of minutes no one dared to breathe, and then people started to whisper, Harry could hear some of them, apparently the hat did not usually take this long. Hermione had crossed her arms, if Harry didn't know any better she seemed to be having an argument with it. The hat seemed to shiver slightly before eventually shouting, "Slytherin!" To deafening silence. Hermione primly took the hat off her head and placed on the stool, she nodded to the Deputy Headmistress and then walked over to the Slytherin table, her head high and posture immaculate, a small smattering of applause greeting her. A number of others went before Harry, including Draco who the hat shouted Slytherin before it was even touching the boys head and the other boy received a loud cheer, as opposed to Hermione's welcome.

 "Harry Potter." Professor McGonagall called out and the already quiet room, hushed even further than Harry thought was possible, particularly with so many people in it.

 Dully Harry was aware of his feet carrying him forward as he slowly walked up to the hat, he gingerly picked it up and sat down before placing it over his head. It sunk down over his eyes, hiding the rest of the hall from view.

  _"Well well well, what do we have here?"_ The hat seemed to mumble to itself, _"You have plenty of courage boy, and a good mind, though you would not do well in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Which leaves Gryffindor and Slytherin."_

_"Do I get a choice?"_

_"Of course you do boy! Your parents were in Gryffindor and as I said you would do well there, your life would be much easier. But you also would do well in Slytherin and it would help you on your way to greatness."_

_"Taking the easy way hardly seems brave, though I do not care much about greatness, I already have enough."_

_"Ah, but there are other reasons that you want to go to Slytherin, are there not, such as a certain friend?"_

_"Hermione? She wouldn't care what house I went to, I know that, but Slytherin won't be easy…"_

_"I know. She was an interesting person, as are you."_

_"Why did it take so long with her?"_

_"Ah, she has an interesting in mind, I'm afraid we got rather side-tracked talking about a number of topics."_

_"Such as?"_

_"Ah, previous students, the founders, she tried explaining that muggle science to me, it was interesting, I would have liked to have more time to talk about it…"_ The hat trailed off into its own thoughts.

 _"Wait, you knew the founders?"_ Harry asked, focusing on what the hat had mentioned.

  _"But of course boy, and you are more than welcome to ask me about them at a later date, but tempus fugit."_

 _"Right,"_ Harry responded, _"What happens now then?"_

_"Why my dear boy, you haven't told me. Do you follow in your parents shadows, or after a friend, or do you choose a completely different path?"_

_"I know nothing of my parents, so trying to be them seems silly."_ Harry thought things over, he wanted his own path, but he knew the hat was right, the other two houses weren't for him. Hufflepuff valued loyalty and fairness, but after his childhood he might be jaded but the world just didn’t work that way, whereas Ravenclaw, as much as he liked to read and learn things, he wasn't a scholar. His thoughts drifted to the people he'd met over the last couple months, and of Hermione… She wouldn’t forget him, but the legendary rivalry would force them apart, particularly if people like Draco and Ron got involved. His mind made up, _"I want to join Hermione."_

  _"On your head be it."_ The hat responded to him laughing, before opening its sack mouth and shouting, "Better be Slytherin!"

 Harry lifted the hat off of his head to the sight of the great hall frozen in shock. No one was moving, they were just staring at him, in abject horror. Harry could feel his face flush slightly as he stood and placed the hat back.

 CLAP!

 Harry jumped, as did a number of students and teachers, turning to see Hermione standing at Slytherin table, where she had received less than cordial applause, and she was clapping for him. He smiled and started to move over to her. He was halfway there before anyone else started clapping, those in his year did and a smattering of others from the table, but the rest of the hall was deathly silent. He gratefully sat down next to Hermione and nodded to Draco. He then turned and stared expectantly up at Professor McGonagall. Slowly the rest of the table followed suit, until the older witch coughed, before reading out the next name. The rest of the sorting passed quickly. Finishing with Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin.

 Professor McGonagall removed the hat an stool from the dais and walked over to her highbacked chair to the side of Dumbledore's golden throne. The headmaster stood, congenially holding his arms open, "To our new and returning students welcome! I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." And with that the older wizard sat down, food magically appearing on the tables in front of everyone. It was a spread the likes of which Harry had never seen. He started placing a moderate amount on his plate of the things he wanted, the rest of his housefellows doing the same. The newly assorted first years were sitting in a group together at the end of the table near the teacher's table.

 Draco Malfoy was sitting opposite them, "Granger, Potter. I'm surprised to see you in the noble house of Slytherin."

 "And why is that Malfoy?" Hermione asked, her head tilted slightly to the side.

 "A mu- muggleborn," Draco corrected, realising that the Ravenclaw table next to them were also listening in, "And a half-blood whose parents were decidedly Gryffindor. Why would I not find it … strange?" A number of the house shifted even further away from the duo, looks of disgust were directed towards Hermione and some even started muttering to themselves.

 "Blood is the core of your society." Harry said nonchalantly, before Hermione could speak, "We'll have to change that." He smiled at the boy opposite him.

 "Blood is magic, and you have little." Draco sniffed, "I wish I'd gone to Durmstrang, how this place has gone to the dogs, even with all my father has done for it."

 "This meeting has certainly been as eventful as our previous encounters." Hermione retorted, her mask of a smile still in place.

 "How dare a filthy muggleborn like you address one of us as an equal." One of the girls, Pansy Parkinson hissed viciously.

 "Strange, I could have sworn I heard someone speak then, but seeing as how this is a conversation between equals, that couldn't possibly be the case." Hermione said, staring at Draco, waiting his response.

 Harry watched the two of them, he knew that the formal language of the train meant that Draco accorded Hermione a certain amount of respect in normal circumstances, but with Hermione's birth parents added in, it could go either way. Pansy either completely unaware of the tension or being deliberately difficult continued, "I am a Parkinson, you are worth no more than the mud under my boot."

 Hermione lazily turned to face the other girl, looking her up and down, before sniffing to herself, "A high insult, given your … status." She replied mockingly.

 The pureblood leant forward her eyes glinting dangerously, she opened her mouth to speak, when Draco beat her to it. "It is interesting." He said stopping Pansy, "Though I doubt my father will think of it that way."

 A strained silence settled over the group as most of the house watched Hermione, who was still smiling at Draco. "I look forward to it."

 "As do I." Harry interjected, "We are, after all Slytherins."

 "I might have misjudged you Potter."

 "I don't doubt it."

 The rest of the table slowly turned to their food, and general conversation, but the tense aura hovered over the group for the meal's entirety. Harry didn't dare trying to talk to Hermione during it, instead he focused on his food and watched the things around him. Hermione doing the same. By the time everyone had finished their meals Harry was tired and a little bit frustrated, he'd been getting looks and glares all evening. The food slowly vanished from the table and Dumbledore stood from his seat to speak again, "A few start of term notices if you will, this year we introduce a new core subject, that has been supported by the board of governors. To replace the old Muggle Studies; a Magical and Muggle Societies class, which will be mandatory to OWL level. A new lecturer, Professor Petrovic will be leading the course, and I ask you to give him a warm welcome!" Dumbledore smiled at the smattering of applause that went through the crowd.

 "That's rubbish, if my father had been in the country it never would have passed." Draco grumbled, relatively loudly.

 "Furthermore, the forbidden forest is out of bounds for all students, new and old," his eyes rested on a pair of redheaded twins laughing to themselves, "And finally the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death." The headmaster smiled and then sat back down, turning to converse with professor McGonagall, as if he'd said nothing strange.

 Harry exchanged a confused look with Hermione as the older years started to move out of the great hall. "First years, stay seated, we'll lead you to the dormitories after everyone has left." An older student called out, the prefects badge on his chest glinting in the candlelight. Slowly the hall emptied, the prefect speaking to a couple of people as they left. Finally the only ones left were the small group of first years at each table.

 "I'm Lucian Bole and this is Gemma Farley, two of the prefects for Slytherin House, we'll lead you to the dormitories now." The prefect said leading the group from the Great Hall and to the grand staircase, where they waited for a staircase to move towards them. Harry stared up at the moving staircases in wonder whilst they waited. Before the group followed the prefects and descended into the dungeons.

 Lucian led them through twists and turns, Harry could have sworn they doubled back once or twice before they came to a section of wall that had carvings of snakes on it. As Harry drew closer he realised they weren't carvings but a twisting mass of stone snakes. "Yessssss?" They hissed at the prefect and group standing in front of them.

 "Onopordum acanthium." The prefect intoned and the snakes hissed before drawing back and creating a doorway. Stone grating against stone as they did. He strode through confidently and the rest of the group followed after, one at a time. The snakes hissing, their tongues flicking the air, the stones glinting in their eyes as the students passed through.

 Harry was one of the last through and watched as the snakes coalesced back into a tumbling mass. They'd entered into an entrance room, with a large open archway in front of them and two closed doorways on either side. Through the archway was a large two story communal lounge, where most of the students had gathered. All three of the other walls were interspersed floor to ceiling windows showing the Black Lake.

 "The two doors you just passed lead to an assortment of communal study rooms and a small library amongst other things." explained Gemma, she then gestured to the doors set inside the common room itself, just before the windows started on the side walls. "Those lead to the dormitories. You'll each have a small room and bathroom with a seating area adjoining the girls and boys wings. Each year has one floor and those doorways lead to all of them. Yours is the lowest floor." The insinuation of the first years being lowest on the totem pole was clear as day.  

 "Now, as you're firsties, I doubt any of you can actually concoct plots, or help us with Slytherin schemes, your jobs are to earn points and not get in trouble. Believe me when I say that Professor Snape is most creative with his volunteer work." Lucian continued to then give the new students a quick rundown of each of the teachers before continuing, "We're here the be the best, that means if you have trouble with something we have past essays and exams in the Slytherin Library."

 "One thing first, before we get to the next order of business, which I know the rest of you are waiting for." Gemma said, directing her comment to the rest of Slytherin House who were watching the proceedings with great interest, "If you have a problem with anyone in this House, it stays in House. We will not show the cracks of Slytherin to outsiders, that way lies destruction. Is that clear?" She routinely held the gaze of a couple of students who must have had difficulties following that rule in the past.

 "Fine Gemma, but more importantly what are we to do about them?" A boy asked, a disgusted sneer decorating his ungainly face. A number of others chimed in with their own comments. The rest of the first years had shifted away from Harry and Hermione, sensing the impending danger.

 "As I've said, whatever your opinions of them are, you do not reveal it outside of this common room. Aside from that, you know the rules." Lucian shrugged uncaring.

 "I say we hospitalise the muddy, show her just how much she doesn't belong in our world." The same boy spat.

 "A brilliant idea I'm sure, if it wasn't for the fact it would break the rule Miss. Farley just laid out." Hermione said coolly, her voice gliding across the room like ice.

 "You filthy mudblood, how dare you speak to me. I am a Thorn! You are nothing-."

 "And yet, I am here. Though I am not entirely sure why you are." She cocked her head slightly as if examining a puzzling specimen, her tone not raising from one you'd use to discuss the weather with an acquaintance.

 "You bitch!" He snarled and drew his wand. Harry looked around, was no one going to do anything - of course not, this was how the House worked. He fidgeted a moment, indecisive, wondering what on Earth he could do, as a jet of light shot out toward Hermione. For half a second Harry thought he was going to jump in front of it. When Hermione neatly side-stepped.

 "Well, at least I know what not to do in the future," She sniffed, "You call yourself a Slytherin, you seem more like a Gryffindor to me."

 "You'll pay for that comment." Thorn said, but paused slightly, while the rest of the room was watching silently her comment had a point. "You just made an enemy."

 "I'm a mudblood." Harry noticed a couple of people flinch at Hermione using the word to describe herself, "You all look at me as the enemy, I did not expect a cordial welcome. Though perhaps it would have been more Slytherin of you."

 "Enough!" Said Lucian, "Thorn go work off your anger before you embarrass yourself further." The other boy sneered again and stalked out of the common room, a couple of others followed him.

 "What about Potter?" A female voice drifted out from the crowd, Harry couldn't see who they were. "He's the reason a number of our relatives are in prison or dead."

 "The same rules apply as they would for anyone else." A cold and deep voice cut across the room, everyone turned to look as their Head of House appeared from a dark corner, had he been there the whole time? Harry wondered to himself. "Are there any other questions?" Raising an eyebrow as he did, "No? Then first and second years off to bed. The rest of you do something constructive with your evening." After a breath everyone scampered to do as he bid, Professor Snape only left the room after the younger students started filing downstairs, his robes billowing behind him as he did.

 Harry was starting to flag after the third floor of stairs and he wasn't the only one. In fact only the last Slytherin to be sorted, Blaze wasn't out of breath when they reached the bottom floor. It came out onto a long stone corridor, the other end hosting the second set of stairs and set at the midpoint between them were a set of double doors. The group headed towards them, as they'd been left on their own. It led to a smaller common room, decorated in a similar style as the main one. With a large fireplace on the opposite wall to the entrance flanked by more windows looking into the Black Lake. On both the left and the right sides were doorways leading to the separate boys and girls wings.

 Harry and Hermione said goodnight, as both of them were tired and this was no place to discuss private things. Harry chose the last bedroom, wanting to be the furthest away from the common room. It was a small rectangle room; with an en-suite as he entered, before it opened out to show a single and a half bed, his chest sitting in front of it, along one wall and a wardrobe and desk area along the other. The wall opposite the doorway had another window looking out into the lake. Surprisingly the room was dry and crisp. He shut the door behind himself, hearing a locking sound as he did. He frowned and turned back to it, as soon as his hand touched the handle, another clicking sound happened and he could pull the door open. Someone must have decided to put locking spells or charms on each of the doors, it was a very Slytherin thing to do after all. He shut the door again and looked around the room, a smile starting to form on his face, he could get used to this. 


End file.
